"Why sartin, sartin," he answered in a moment, "but who be ye? I thought for a minute ye was a sperit. Git up here," he added, without waiting for a reply and moving to make room. Then as Chip obeyed, he chirruped to his horse and down the hill they rattled. "Who might be ye, girlie, an' whar'd ye come from?" he asked again, as they came to another ascent and the horse walked. "My name's Vera, Vera--Raymond," answered Chip, "an' I run away from where I was livin'." "That's curis," answered the old man, glancing at her; "whar'd ye run away from, some poor farm?" "No, sir," replied Chip, almost defiantly, "but I guess I was a sort o' pauper. I was livin' with folks that fetched me out o' the woods an' was schoolin' me, and I couldn't stand it, so I run away. I don't want to tell where they be, or where I came from either," she added in a moment, "for I don't want them ever to find me." "Wal, that's a proper sort o' feelin'," responded the man, still looking at his passenger, "an' I don't mind. I live down beyond here in what's called the Holler. Somebody called it Peaceful Valley once. We'll take keer o' ye to-night 'n' to-morrer we'll see what's best to be done. I guess ye need a hum 'bout ez bad ez a body kin, anyway." And so Chip McGuire, waif of the wilderness and erstwhile protegee of a philanthropic woman, as Vera Raymond found another home, and began still another life with this old farmer, Judson Walker, and his wife Mandy. But a sorrow deeper far than Chip ever realized fell upon Aunt Comfort when her brimming eyes read her note the morning after her flight. "Dear Aunt Comfort, "I can't stand Hannah or being a pauper any longer. She as good as told me I wanted your money and I never thought of it. She said I wasn't good enough for Ray, either, and that was the reason Mrs. Frisbie took him away so soon. I know I ain't good for nothin' nor nobody, but I didn't ask to be fetched here and I am going away, never, never, never to come back. If ever I can, I will pay you and Mrs. Frisbie for all I've eat and had. "Good-bye Forever, "Chip." CHAPTER XXVI "There's a heap o' comfort in lookin' on the dark side o' life cheerfully."--Old Cy Walker. Old Cy especially found life dull after Ray had gone. The hermit also appeared to miss him and became more morose than ever. He never had been what might be termed social, speaking only when spoken to, and then only in the fewest possible words. Now Old Cy became almost a walking sphinx, and found that time passed slowly. His heartstrings had somehow become entwined with Ray's hopes and plans. He had bent every energy and thought to secure for Ray a valuable stock of furs and gum, and, as was his nature, felt a keen satisfaction in helping that youth to a few hundred dollars.