Cudjo's Cave

by J. T. Trowbridge

"O, yes, yes! I'll go! Massa can't lib widout ol' Toby, dat's a fac'!"

But looking out again in the dark, his zeal was suddenly damped. "Dey cotch me, dey sarve me wus 'n dey sarved ol' Pete, shore! Can't help tinkin' ob dat!"

Virginia saw what serious cause there was to dread such a catastrophe. But her resolution was unshaken.

"Toby, listen. That man out there is a spy. His object is to see if any of our friends come to the house, or if we send to them. He won't molest you; but he may follow to see where you go. If he does, then make a wide circuit, and return home, and I will find some other means of communication."

Thus encouraged, the negro set out a second time. Virginia followed him at a distance. She saw, as she anticipated, the figure start up again, and move off in the direction he was going. Toby accordingly commenced making a large detour through the fields, and both he and the shadow dogging him were soon out of sight.

Then Virginia lost no time in executing the other plan at which she had hinted. Instead of returning, to give up the undertaking in despair, and listen to matrimonial proposals from Gus Bythewood, she took a long breath, gathered up her skirts, and set out for the mountain.

There was a new moon, but it was hidden by clouds. Still the evening was not very dark. The long twilight of the summer day still lingered in the valley. Here and there she could distinguish landmarks,—a knoll, a rock, or a tree,—which gave her confidence. I will not say that she feared nothing. She was by nature timid, imaginative, and she feared many things. Her own footsteps were a terror to her. The moving of a bush in the wind, the starting of a rabbit from her path, caused her flesh to thrill. At sight of an object slowly and noiselessly emerging from the darkness and standing before her, motionless and spectral, she almost fainted, until she discovered that it was an old acquaintance, a tall pine stump. But all these childish terrors she resolutely overcame. Her heart never faltered in its purpose. Affection for her father, anxiety for his welfare, and, it may be, some little solicitude for her father's friend, who had appointed the tryst at the rock,—not with herself, indeed, but with Toby,—kept her firm and unwavering in her course. And beneath all, deep in her soul, was a strong religious sense, a faith in a divine guidance and protection.

What most she feared was neither ghost nor wild beast of the mountains. She felt that, if she could avoid encountering the brutal soldiers of secession, keeping watch along the mountain-side, she would willingly risk everything else. With the utmost caution, with breathless tread, she drew near the road she was to cross. Her footsteps were less loud than her heart-beats. Dogs barked in the distance. In a pool near by, some happy frogs were singing. The shrill cry of a katydid came from a poplar tree by the road—"Katy did! Katy didn't!" with vehement iteration and contradiction. No other sounds; she waited and listened long; then glided across the road.

She had come far from the village in order to avoid meeting any one. Her course now lay directly up the mountain-side. The round rock was a famous bowlder known to picnic parties that frequented the spot in summer to enjoy a view from its summit, and a luncheon under its shadow. She had been there a dozen times; but could she find it in the night? In vain, as she toiled upwards, she strained her eyes to see the huge dim stone jutting out from the shadowy rocks and bushes.

At length a sudden light, faint and silvery, streamed down upon her. She looked and saw the clouds parted, and below them the crescent moon setting, like a cimeter of white flame withdrawn by an invisible hand behind the vast shadowy summit of the mountain. Almost at the same moment she discovered the object she sought. The rock was close before her; and close upon her right was the grove which she herself had so often helped to fill with singing and laughter. How little she felt like either singing or laughing now!