"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 there was Count de Chaumont to be considered. How would he regard such a leave-taking? Doctor Chantry was as insensible to De Chaumont as I myself. Still he agreed to write a note to his protector while I prepared my quill to write one to Madame de Ferrier. With the spirit of the true parasite he laid all the blame on me, and said he was constrained by duty to follow and watch over me since it was impossible to curb a nature like mine. And he left a loop-hole open for a future return to De Chaumont's easy service, when the hardships which he willingly faced brought him his reward. This paper he brazenly showed me while I was struggling to beg Madame de Ferrier's pardon, and to let her know that I aimed at something definite whether I ever reached port or not. I reflected with satisfaction that he would probably turn back at Saratoga. We descended together to his room and brought away the things he needed. In bulk they were twice as large as the load I had made for myself. He also wrote out strict orders to Pierre to seal up his room until his return. The inability of an old man to tear himself from his accustomed environment cheered my heart. We then went back to bed, and like the two bad boys we were, slept prepared for flight. II