have strong arms to lend their country be already on
their way over the mountains. Penn and Carl must go with them. Nor do I
forget Pomp and Cudjo. They shall go too, and you will protect them."

Penn turned suddenly pale. It was the soundness of the good old man's
counsel that terrified him. Separation from Virginia! She to be left at
the mercy of the confederates! This was the one thing in the world he
had personally to dread.

"It may be good advice," he said. "It is certainly a noble
self-sacrifice, Mr. Villars proposes. But I do not believe there is one
here who will consent to it. I say, let us keep together. If necessary,
we can die together. We cannot separate, if by so doing we must leave
him behind."

He spoke with intense feeling, yet his words were but feebly echoed by
the patriots. The truth was, they were already convinced that they ought
to be making their way out of the state, and had said so among
themselves; but, being unwilling to abandon the old minister, and
knowing well that he could never think of undertaking the terrible
journey they saw before them, hither they had come to hear what he had
to suggest.

"What do you think, Pomp?" Penn asked, in despair.

"I think that what Mr. Villars advises these men to do is the best
thing."

Penn was stupefied. He saw that he stood alone, opposed to the general
opinion. And something within himself said that he was selfish, that he
was wrong. He did not venture to glance at Virginia, but bent his eyes
downward with a stunned expression at the floor of the cave.

"But as for himself, and us, I am not so sure. There are recesses in
this cave that cannot easily be discovered. He shall remain, and we will
stay and take care of him, if he will."

These calm words of the negro sounded like a reprieve to Penn's soul. He
caught eagerly at the suggestion.

"Yes, if there must be a separation, Pomp is right. If many go, it will
be believed that all are gone, and the rest can remain in safety."

"You are all too generous towards me," said the old minister. "But I
have nothing more to say. I am very patient. I am willing to accept
whatever God sends, and to wait his own blessed time for it. When you,
Penn, were sick in my house, and the ruffians were coming to kill you,
and I could not determine what to do, the question was decided for me:
Providence decided it by taking you, by what seemed a miracle, beyond
the reach of all of us. So I believe this question,