He was at a loss to know just where to turn at the present time for a home where he could work for his board and attend school. The Judge and M'ri had gone abroad; Joe was on his ranch; the farmers needed no additional help. He had been walking swiftly in unison with his thoughts, and when he came out of the woods into the open he was only a mile downstream from town. Upon the river bank stood Uncle Larimy, skillfully swirling his line. "Wanter try yer luck, Dave?" "I have no luck just now, Uncle Larimy," replied the boy sadly. Uncle Larimy shot him a quick, sidelong glance. "Then move on, Dave, and chase arter it. Thar's allers luck somewhar. Jest like fishin'. You can't set in one spot and wait for luck tew come to you like old Zeke Foss does. You must keep a-castin'." "I don't know where to cast, Uncle Larimy." Uncle Larimy pondered. He knew that Jud was home, and he divined David's trend of thought. "You can't stick to a plank allers, Dave, ef you wanter amount tew anything. Strike out bold, and swim without any life presarvers. You might jest as well be a sleepy old cat in a corner as to go smoothsailin' through life." "I feel that I have got to strike out, and at once, Uncle Larimy, but I don't just know where to strike." "Wal, Dave, it's what we've all got to find out fer ourselves. It's a leap in the dark like, and ef you don't land nowhere, take another leap, and keep a-goin' somewhar." David wended his way homeward, pondering over Uncle Larimy's philosophy. When he went with Barnabas to do the milking that night he broached the subject of leaving the farm. "I know how Jud feels about my being here, Uncle Barnabas." "What did he say to you?" asked the old man anxiously. "Nothing. I overheard a part of your conversation. He is right. And if I stay here, he will run away to sea. He told the fellows in Lafferton he would." "You are going to stay, Dave." "You won't like to think you drove your son away. If he gets into trouble, both you and I will feel we are to blame." "Dave, I see why the Jedge hez got it all cut out fer you to be a lawyer. You've got the argyin' habit strong. But you can't argue me into what I see is wrong. This is the place fer you to be, and Jud 'll hev to come outen his spell." "Then let me go away until he does. You must give him every chance." "Where'll you go?" asked Barnabas curiously. "I don't know, yet," said the boy, "but I'll think out a plan to-night." It was Jud, after all, who cut the Gordian knot, and made one of his welcome disappearances, which lasted until David was ready to start in college. His savings, that he had accumulated by field work in the summers and a very successful poultry business for six years, netted him four hundred dollars. "One hundred dollars for each year," he thought exultantly. "That will be ample with the work I shall find to do." Then he made known to his friends his long-cherished scheme of working his way through college. The Judge laughed.