"But you live right here in Hannibal," I insisted. "You must know more about it than I do. I live in New York. What could I know about a cave away out here in Missouri?"
"Well, you know just as much as I do, anyhow," he returned doggedly.
"Look here!" I said sharply. "I hope you aren't a coward? The idea! A great big fellow like you, too!"
However, at that juncture, our argument was stopped by the appearance of the missing man. He strolled into the light in leisurely fashion.
"What happened?" I cried.
"Happened?" he repeated. "Nothing happened. Why?"
"You yelled, didn't you?"
"Yes," he said, "I wanted to hear the echoes."
Before leaving Hannibal that afternoon, we had the pleasure of meeting an old school friend of Samuel Clemens's, Colonel John L. RoBards—the same John RoBards of whom it is recorded in Paine's work that "he wore almost continually the medal for amiability, while Samuel Clemens had a mortgage on the medal for spelling."