read some portions, particularly those
relating to Topsy.

Both Frank and Juba were very much entertained.

"Did you know Topsy, Juba?" asked Frank.

"No, chile, never knowed Topsy. She must have been a no account young
nigga. If she'd lived on our plantation she'd have got flogged for her
impudence."

"How did you come here, Juba?" asked Frank.

"One of them officers took me to Chicago. I lived out with a lady, but
when she died, after a good many years, I went to a 'telligence
office, and there I met your papa. He brought me out here. I didn't at
first like livin' down under the ground, but I don't mind it now.
Massa Fox treats me well, and I ain't no wish to change."

This was the substance of what Juba had to communicate. The rest of
the day passed quietly. At nightfall James Fox came home looking very
sober. But he came alone. His brother was not with him.

CHAPTER XX.

ERNEST EXPLORES THE CAVE.

James Fox had very little to say during the evening. He was evidently
preoccupied and anxious. He paid scant attention to the boys, but left
them to their own devices.

Frank knew so little of his father's business, or occupation, that he
could conceive of no cause for worriment. When his advances met with
little response he asked, "Have you got a headache, papa?"

"No--yes, child. My head troubles me some. Be as quiet as you can."

"Will it disturb you if I play checkers with Ernest, papa?"

"No, I should like to have you amuse your self," answered the outlaw.

He directed the boys to go to bed early. As before, they slept
together, and he threw him self on the lounge without taking off his
clothes.

Ernest slept well. When he woke up at eight o'clock he saw that Frank
was still sleeping, but his host was already up.

Juba came into the room.

"Get up, children," she said. "Breakfast is ready."

"Where is papa?" asked Frank.

"He took breakfast an hour ago, honey."

"What made him get up so early?"

"'Portant business called him away, he said."

"Where's Uncle John?"

"He hasn't been home."

"Has he got 'portant business, too?"

"'Specs he has, honey."

"It doesn't seem nice to take breakfast without papa," said the
little boy.

"You may consider me your papa, Frank," observed Ernest.

"But you're not big enough to be a papa."

"At any rate, I am not old enough."

When breakfast was over there was the long day before them to be
filled up in some way.

"Don't you ever wish