An hour later Sir Amory on his good horse Baldric, and with mistress Betty in his arms, rode up to the deserted lodge and uttered a cheery call for its supposed occupant to come forth. The knight was puzzled at finding the place empty; and for several days thereafter he caused search to be made for its recent owner. But nothing came of this, nor for many years did he hear a word concerning the disappearance and whereabouts of Massasoit.
That night Nahma slept in the wood, as lonely and friendless a human being as could be found in all the world, but so happy in his regained memory and in the knowledge that he, like others, could now lay claim to home and people, towards whom he was journeying, that nothing else mattered. On the morrow he struck the broad trail of a highway that led to the westward, and thereafter he followed it. Noting that his appearance attracted attention from the few travellers whom he met, he determined to procure a suit of clothing that would render him less conspicuous.
He dreaded to approach a house, and was at a loss how to accomplish his purpose until at dusk of the second day. Then he ran across a camp-fire surrounded by a group of dark-skinned persons, who for a moment he believed to be people of his own race. He did not discover his mistake until he was within the circle of fire-light and it was too late to retreat. So he put on a bold face, accepted an invitation to eat with the gypsies, and strove hard, though without success, to understand what they said.
They in turn were as much puzzled by him as he was by them; but this did not prevent them from exchanging a well-worn suit of clothing for Nahma's fur robe when he intimated by signs his willingness to make such a trade. As soon as he procured these things he put them on over his buckskin garments; and, as a dilapidated cap had been thrown in to complete the bargain, he was so thoroughly disguised that even Sir Amory would have failed to recognize him.
The gypsies invited their guest to cast his fortunes with them, and proposed among themselves to compel him to do so in any event. He neither declined nor accepted their offer, but after a while lay down to sleep near their fire, as though willing, at any rate, to remain with them for the present. Thus they were much chagrined to find in the morning that he had disappeared without leaving a trace to show which way he had gone.
So it happened that our wanderer came at length to the snug little seaport of Bristol, at that time second in importance only to London. And thus was taken the first step of his momentous journey. Dusk was falling as he entered the place, and for some time he wandered aimlessly through its narrow streets.
Then, unexpectedly, he came to the water front and discovered ships, some under sail and others anchored in the stream. His heart leaped at sight of them, for he supposed that all ships passed to and from his own country. Therefore if he could only find one about to depart, and contrive to get on board, the second and longest step of his journey would be provided for.
He managed to exchange his bow and arrows for a meal in a small public-house near the water, and when he had eaten it he again strolled outside looking for a place in which to pass the night. It was now quite dark, and, without going far, he lay down to sleep under the lee of a boat that was drawn up on one of the wharves.
Some hours later he was awakened by sounds of shouting and scuffling close at hand, and sprang to his feet in alarm. As he did so a rough voice called out,—