But toward evening it was decided that the next morning, if the weather was even a trifle improved, he and Gerald should leave, with Obed's help, or without, there being one or two obliging fishermen in Chantico who would bring back the cat-boat.
Accordingly, the next morning saw the two embarking, alone. Obed could not budge. Philip promised to exercise every kind of care, and he would communicate with Obed, by way of Chantico, within a few days. They bid these true, if new, friends good-bye. Philip shook Obed's rough hand as the farmer lay in bed suffering severely, and any thing but patient at so untimely a set-back.
"I—I'd rather have lost a small fortune than that things should come this way," he declared; "an' I'll be in as much of a fever as Loreta till we get word from you. I'm sure I wish you could stay a month."
A rough and not particularly direct passage brought them safely to Chantico about noon. It was a bright, cold day. A stage-coach ran to Knoxport. They had exactly time to catch this. By the middle of the afternoon they were trundling along the main business street
