eel as well as usual."

"But I ought to go home," said Robert, trying to rise. "My aunt will
feel anxious about me."

"Who is your aunt?"

"I am the nephew of John Trafton, who has a small house on the cliff."

"I know. He is a fisherman."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't disturb yourself. Word shall be sent to your aunt that you are
safe. I will give you a sleeping draught, and tomorrow morning we will
speak further."

Somehow Robert did not dream of resisting the will of his host. The old
man had an air of command to which it seemed natural to submit.
Moreover, he knew that to this mysterious stranger--the hermit of the
cliff, as the fishermen called him--he was indebted for his life, and
such a man must necessarily be his friend. Robert was, besides, in that
condition of physical languor when, if he had felt disposed, he would
have found it very difficult to make resistance to the will of another.

"First of all," said the old man, "you must take off your wet clothes. I
will place them where they can dry, so that you may put them on in the
morning."

With assistance Robert divested himself of his wet garments. As we know,
he had little to take off. The stranger brought out a nightgown and then
placed our hero in his own bed, wrapping him up in blankets.

"Now for the sleeping draught," he said.

From a bottle he poured out a few drops, which Robert swallowed. In less
than three minutes he had closed his eyes and was in a profound
slumber.

The old man regarded him with satisfaction as he lay breathing
tranquilly upon the bed.

"He is young and strong. Nature has been kind to him and given him an
excellent constitution. Sleep will repair the ill effects of exposure. I
must remember my promise to the boy," he said.

Turning to the table, he drew from a drawer writing materials and wrote
the brief message which, as we have already seen, was duly delivered,
and then walked to the entrance of the cavern.

He placed a whistle to his lips, and in response to his summons a black
dog came bounding to him from the recesses of the grotto and fawned upon
him.

"Come with me, Carlo; I have work for you," he said.

The dog, as if he understood, followed his master out upon the beach.

They walked far enough to bring into clear distinctness the cabin on the
cliff.

"Do you see that house. Carlo?" asked his master, directing the dog's
attention with his outstretched finger.

Carlo answered by a short, quick bark, whic