"I have been thinking it all over," said Pomp, "and have concluded to pay your friends a visit."
"No, no, my dear sir!" exclaimed Penn, with gratitude. "I can't let you incur any such danger on my account. I can never repay you for half you have done for me already!" And he pressed the negro's hand as no white man had ever pressed it since the death of his good master, Dr. Bythewood.
Pomp was deeply affected. His great chest heaved, and his powerful features were charged with emotion.
"The risk will not be great," said he. "I will take Cudjo with me, and between us we will manage to bring off your clothes."
At night the two blacks departed, leaving Penn alone in the fire-lit cave, waiting for their return, picturing to himself all the difficulties of their adventure, and thinking with warm gratitude and admiration of Pomp, whose noble nature not even slavery could corrupt, whose benevolent heart not even wrong could embitter.
It was late in the evening when the two messengers arrived at Mr. Villars's house. All was dark and still about the premises. But one light was visible, and that was in the room over the kitchen.
"That is Toby's room," said Pomp. "Stay here, Cudjo, while I give him a call."
"Stay yuself," said Cudjo, "and lef dis chil' go. Me know Toby; you don't."
So Pomp remained on the watch while Cudjo climbed the tree by which Penn had descended, scrambled up over the shed-roof, reached the window, opened it, and thrust in his head.
Toby, who was just going to bed, heard the movement, saw the frightful apparition, and with a shriek dove under the bed-clothes, where he lay in an agony of fear, completely hidden from sight, while Cudjo, grinning maliciously, climbed into the room.