s world, your rival has the power and you
have the feelings. Stay where you are. You'll never forget it, but it
will hurt less as years go by."

"Master," I said to him, "good sense is on your side. But if I knew I
should perish, I would have to go!"

And I added from fullness of conviction--

"I would rather undertake to do something, and perish, than live a
thousand years as I am."

Doctor Chantry struck the chair arm with his clenched fist.

"My lad, so would I--so would I!--I wish I had been dowered with your
spirit!--I'm going with you!"

As soon as he had made this embarrassing resolution my master blew his
nose and set his British jaws firmly together. I felt my own jaw drop.

"Have you as much as a Spanish real of your own?" I quoted.

"That I have, young sir, and some American notes, such as they are, and
good English pounds, beside."

"And do you know how to reach the seaport?"

"Since I came that way I can return that way. You have youth, my lad,
but I have brains and experience."

"It's plain what ails you, Doctor Chantry. And you might as well try to
swim the Atlantic."

My poor master dropped his head on his breast, and I was ashamed of
baiting him and began to argue tenderly. I told him he could not bear
hardships; he was used to the soft life in De Chaumont's house; while my
flesh had been made iron in the wilderness. I intended to take a boat
from those hidden at our summer camp, to reach the head of Lake George.
But from that point to the Hudson river--where the town of Luzerne now
stands--it was necessary to follow a trail. I could carry the light
canoe over the trail, but he could not even walk it.

The more I reasoned with him the more obstinate he became. There was a
wonderful spring called Saratoga, which he had visited with De Chaumont
a few years before as they came into the wilderness; he was convinced
that the water would set him on foot for the rest of the journey.

"It is twenty-nine miles above Albany. We could soon reach it," he
urged.

"I have heard of it," I answered. "Skenedonk has been there. But he says
you leave the river and go into the woods."

"I know the way," he testily insisted. "And there used to be near the
river a man who kept horses and carried visitors to the spring."

The spirit of reckless adventure, breaking through years of extreme
prudence, outran youth.

"What will you do in France?" I put to him. He knew no more than I what
I should do.

And