as a man--and a black man. He came towards the spot where I was
concealed, sauntering along, chewing now and then a leaf, and muttering
to himself; appearing as happy as a savage in his native woods, and
perfectly unconscious of being observed. Suddenly I rose up, levelling
my gun. He uttered a yell of terror, and started to cast himself again
into the chasm. But with a threat I prevented him, and he threw himself
at my feet, begging me to grant him his life, and not to take him back
to his master.

"'Who is your master?' said I.

"'Job Coombs was my master,' said he, 'but I left him.'

"'You are Cudjo, then!' said I,--for I had heard of him. He ran away
from a tolerably good master on account of unmercifully cruel treatment
from the overseer. But as he had been frightfully cut up the night
before he disappeared, it was generally believed he had crawled into a
hole in the rocks somewhere, and died, and been eaten by buzzards. But
it seems that he had been concealed and cured by an old slave on the
plantation named Pete."

"Coombs's Pete!" exclaimed Penn.

"You have good cause to remember the name!" said Pomp. "As soon as Cudjo
was well enough to tramp, he took to the mountains. It was a couple of
years afterwards that I met him. We soon came to an understanding, and
he conducted me to his cave. Here he lived. He has always kept up a
communication with some of his friends--especially with old Pete, who
often brings us provisions to a certain place, and supplies us with
ammunition. We give him game and skins, which he disposes of when he
can, generally to such men as Pepperill. He was going to Pepperill's
house, after meeting Cudjo, that night when the patrolmen discovered and
whipped him. That led to Pepperill's punishment, and that led to your
being here."

"Does old Pete visit you since?"

"No, but he has sent us a message, and I have seen Pepperill."

"Not here!"

"Nobody ever comes here, sir. We have a place where we meet our friends;
and as for Pepperill, I went to his house."

"That was bold in you!"

"Bold?" The negro smiled. "What will you say then when I tell you I have
been in Bythewood's house, since I left him? I wanted my medicine-case,
and the bullet-moulds that belong with the rifle. I entered his room,
where he was asleep. I stood for a long time and looked at him by the
moonlight. It was well for him he didn't wake!" said Pomp, with a
dancing light in his eye. "He did not; he slept well! Ha