Penn did not answer immediately; he was considering whether it would be safe to conduct Toby into the cave. Toby grew terrified.

"Don't say ye hain't seen her, Ma.s.sa Penn! ye kill ol' Toby if ye do! I done lost her!" And the poor old faithful fellow sobbed out his story,--how Virginia had disappeared, and how, on discovering the woods to be on fire, he had set out in search of her, and been wandering he scarcely knew where ever since. "Now don't say ye don't know nuffin'

about her! don't say dat!" falling on his knees, and reaching up his hands beseechingly, as if he had only to prevail on Penn to _say_ that all was well with "Miss Jinny," and that would make it so. Such faith is in simple souls.

"I'll say anything you wish me to, good old Toby! only give me a chance."

"Den say you _has_ seen her."

"I _has seen her_," repeated Penn.

"O, bress you, Ma.s.sa Penn! And she ar safe--say dat too!"

"_She ar safe_," said Penn, laughing.

"Bress ye for dat!" And Toby, weeping with joy, kissed the young man's hand again and again. "And ye knows whar she ar?"

"Yes, Toby! So now get up: don't be kneeling on the rocks here in the rain!"

"Jes' one word more! Say ye got her and ol' Ma.s.sa Villars safe stowed away, and ye'll take me to see 'em; den dis ol' n.i.g.g.e.r'll bress you and de Lord and dem, and be willin' fur to die! only say dat, ma.s.sa!"

"Ah! did I promise to say all you wished?"

"Yes, you did, you did so, Ma.s.sa Penn!" cried Toby, triumphantly.

"Then I suppose I must say that, too. So come, you dear old simpleton!

Cudjo!" to the proprietor of the cave, who just then put out his head to reconnoitre, "Cudjo! Here is your friend Toby, come to pay his master and mistress a visit!"

"What business he got hyar?" said Cudjo, crossly. "We's hab all de wuld, and creation besides, comin' bime-by!"

"Cudjo! You knows ol' Toby, Cudjo!" said Toby, in the softest and most conciliatory tone imaginable.

"Nose ye!" Cudjo snuffed disdainfully. "Yes! and wish you'd keep fudder off!"

"Why, Cudjo! don't you 'member Toby? Las' time I seed you! ye 'member dat, Cudjo!"

"Don't 'member nuffin'!"

"'Twan't you, den, got inter my winder, and done skeert me mos' t' def 'fore I found out 'twas my ol' 'quaintance Cudjo, come fur Ma.s.sa Penn's clo'es! Dat ar wan't you, hey?" And Toby's honest indignation cropped out through the thin crust of deprecating obsequiousness which he still thought it politic to maintain.

Penn got under the shelter of the ledge, and waited for the dispute to end. It was evident to him that Cudjo was not half so ill-natured as he appeared; but, feeling himself in a position of something like official importance, he had the human weakness to wish to make the most of it.

"Your ma.s.sa and missis bery well off. Dey in my house. No room dar for you. Ain't wanted hyar, nohow!" turning his back very much like a personage of lighter complexion, clad in brief authority.

"Ain't wanted, Cudjo? You don't know what you's sayin' now. Whar my ol'

ma.s.sa and young missis is, dar ol' Toby's wanted. Can't lib widout me, dey can't! Ol' ma.s.sa wants me to nuss him. Ye don't tink--you's a n.i.g.g.e.r widout no kind ob 'sideration, Cudjo."

"Talk o' you nussin' him when him's got Pomp!"

"Pomp! what can Pomp do? Wouldn't trust him to nuss a chick sicken!"

Toby talked backwards in his excitement.

"Ki! didn't him take Ma.s.sa Hapgood and make him well? Don't ye know nuffin'?"

Toby seemed staggered for a moment. But he rallied quickly, and said,--

"He cure Ma.s.sa Hapgood? He done jes' nuffin' 't all fur him. De fac's is, I had de nussin' on him for a spell at fust, and gib him a start.

Dar's ebery ting in a start, Cudjo."

"O, what a stupid n.i.g.g.e.r!" said Cudjo. "Hyar's Ma.s.sa Hapgood hisself!

leab it to him now!"

"You are both right," said Penn. "Toby did nurse me, and give me a good start; for which I shall always thank him."

"Dar! tol' ye so, tol' ye so!" said Toby.

"But it was Pomp who afterwards cured me," added Penn.

"Dar! tol' you so!" cried Cudjo, while Toby's countenance fell.

"For while Toby is a capital nurse" (Toby brightened), "Pomp is a first-rate doctor" (Cudjo grinned). "So don't dispute any more. Shake hands with your old friend, Cudjo, and show him into your house."

Cudjo was still reluctant; but just then occurred a pleasing incident, which made him feel good-natured towards everybody. Pomp and Pepperill arrived, bringing the bag of meal and the basket of potatoes which the bear-hunters had forsaken in the woods, and which the rain had preserved from the fire.

x.x.xI.

_LYSANDER TAKES POSSESSION._

Gad the "Sleeper" (he had earned that t.i.tle) had been himself placed under guard for drinking too much of the prisoners' liquor, and suffering them to escape. Miserable, sullen, thirsty, he languished in confinement.

"Let 'em shoot me, and done with it, if that's the penalty," said this chivalrous son of the south; "only give a feller suthin' to drink!"

But that policy of the confederates, which opened the jails of the country, and put arms in the hands of the convicts, and pardoned every felon that would fight, might be expected to find a better use for an able-bodied fellow, like Gad, than to shoot him.

The use they found for him was this: He had been a mighty hunter before the Lord, ere he became too besotted and lazy for such sport; and he professed to know the mountains better than any other man. Accordingly, on the recommendation of his friend Lieutenant Ropes, it was resolved to send him to spy out the position of the patriots. It was an enterprise of some danger, and, to encourage him in it, he was promised two things--pardon for his offence, and, what was of more importance to him, a bottle of old whiskey.

"I'll see that you have light enough," said Ropes, significantly.

It was the evening of the firing of the forests. How well the lieutenant fulfilled his part of the engagement, we have seen.

Gad put the bottle in his pocket, and set off at dark by routes obscure and circuitous to get upon the trail of the patriots. How well _he_ succeeded will appear by and by.

The burning of the forests caused a great excitement in the valley, especially among those families whose husbands and fathers were known to have taken refuge in them. Who had committed the barbarous act? The confederates denounced it with virtuous indignation, charging the patriots with it, of course. There was in the village but one witness who could have disputed this charge, and he now occupied Gad's place in the guard-house. It was the deserter Carl.

All the morning Gad's return was anxiously awaited. No doubt there were good reasons why he did not come. So said his friend Silas; and his friend Silas was right: there were good reasons.