And nothing was left for Penn but to obey.

XIV.

_A MAN'S STORY._

Three days longer Penn lay there on his rude bed in the cave, helpless
still, and still in ignorance.

Pomp repeatedly assured him that all was well, and that he had no cause
for anxiety, but refused to enlighten him. The negro's demeanor was well
calculated to inspire calmness and trust. There was something truly
grand and majestic, not only in his person, but in his character also.
He was a superb man. Penn was never weary of watching him. He thought
him the most perfect specimen of a gentleman he had ever seen; always
cheerful, always courteous, always comporting himself with the ease of
an equal in the presence of his guest. His strength was enormous. He
lifted Penn in his arms as if he had been an infant. But his grace was
no less than his vigor. He was, in short, a lion of a man.

Cudjo was more like an ape. His gibberings, his grimaces, his antics,
his delight in mischief, excited in the mind of the convalescent almost
as much surprise as the other's princely deportment. For hours together
he would lie watching those two wonderfully contrasted beings. Petulant
and malicious as Cudjo appeared, he was completely under the control of
his noble companion, who would often stand looking down at his tricks
and deformity, with composedly folded arms and an air of patient
indulgence and compassion beautiful to witness.

Meanwhile Penn gradually regained his strength, so that on the fourth
day Pomp permitted him to talk a little.

"Tell me first about my friends," said Penn. "Are they well? Do they
know where I am?"

"I hope not, sir," said the negro, with a significant smile, seating
himself on the giant's stool. "I trust that no one knows where you are."

"What, then, must they think?" said Penn. "How did I leave them?"

"That is what they are very much perplexed to find out, sir."

"You have heard from them, then?"

"O, yes; we have a way of getting news of people down there. Toby has
nearly gone distracted on your account. He is positive that you are
dead, for he believes you could never have got well out of his hands."

"And Miss--Mr. Villars----?"

"They have been so much disturbed about you, that I would have been glad
to inform them of your safety, if I could. But not even they must know
of this place."

"Where am I, then?"

"You are, as you perceive, in a cave. But I suppose you know so little
how you came here that