“Fo’ goodness, Marse Frank, don’ yo’ go an’ do dat same fing!” cried the affrighted darky. “Yo’ will follow Barney, an’ den whatebber dis chile do?”
“But we must know Barney’s fate!” cried Frank, desperately.
Again and again he called the name of his faithful servitor.
But no answer came back.
All was the silence of the tomb.
Bathed in cold perspiration, Frank laid his hands upon the stone and essayed to move it.
But he could not do this.
What other resort he would have tried, it is impossible to say, but at that moment a warning cry broke from Pomp’s lips.
“Fo’ Hebbin’s sake, Marse Frank, jes’ yo’ look yender. I done fink we bettah skip fo’ de Steam Man.”
Frank glanced in the direction indicated.