"Didn't we trust you? Haven't we come through fire, following you? O Cudjo! more than once you have helped to save my life! You have helped to save this life, dearer than mine! Why do you desert us now?"
"'Sert you? Cudjo no 'sert you." But the negro spoke sullenly, and there was still a sparkle of malignancy in his look.
"Then why do you stop here?"
"Hugh! tink we's go trough dat fire like we done trough tudder?"
"What then are we to do?"
"You's no longer trust Cudjo!" was once more the sullen response.
Virginia, with her quick perceptions, saw at once what Penn was either too dull or too much excited to see. Cudjo felt himself aggrieved; but he was not unfaithful.
"I trust you, Cudjo!"—and she laid her hand frankly and confidingly on his shoulder. "Did I tremble, did I shrink when you carried me through the fire? I shall never forget how brave, how good you are! He trusts you too,—only he is so afraid for me! You can forgive that, Cudjo."
"She is right," said Penn, though still in doubt. "If you know a way to save her, don't lose a moment!"
"He knows; on'y let him take his time," said Pepperill, whose firm faith in the negro's good will shamed Penn for his distrust. And yet Pepperill did not love, as Penn loved, the girl whose life was in danger; and he had not seen the evidences of Cudjo's fire-worshipping fanaticism which Penn had seen.