"Even if there were any wild animals I would protect you, Frank." "But we may not find our way back. It is so dark," said the child with a shudder. "I won't go farther. But, see, it seems to be lighter." At a point fifty feet farther on, through a rift in the roof, a gleam of light entered the cavern. Ernest was anxious to trace this, for, as he judged, it came from some outlet, through which he might possibly obtain deliverance. "Stay where you are," he said. "I will just go forward and see what I can." "Don't stay long," entreated Frank nervously. "No, I won't." Ernest was just as well pleased to go forward alone, for if there were really, as he supposed, an outlet, it was as well that Frank should not have his attention drawn to it, lest he should speak of it to his father and so reveal the fact of their explorations. This might excite the suspicion of James Fox and put a stop to their further walks. Continuing on alone, Ernest then saw, perhaps fifteen feet above him, an opening some three feet in diameter, through which he could obtain a glimpse of the clear sky above. It made his heart beat with exultation and longing. There was freedom if he could only manage somehow to lift himself up to the outlet and make his way through it. "What is it, Ernest?" asked Frank. "Oh, it is nothing," answered Ernest with studied indifference. "It isn't anything you would care to see." The little boy accepted this assurance, for he did not feel the interest that excited Ernest. "Let us go back," he said, as he resumed his clasp of Ernest's hand. "Yes, we will go back. Have you ever been as far as this before?" "No." "Then we had better not say anything about it. Your papa might not like it." "All right, Ernest. Will you read to me when you go back?" "Yes, Frank." Ernest was glad to comply with the little boy's request, as he thought he might in this way put the thoughts of their exploration out of his mind. They were fortunate enough to get back without exciting the attention of Juba, who was busy in the kitchen. Her work, however, was soon over and she brought her sewing into the room where the two boys were seated. "Well, Massa Frank, what am you doing?" "Ernest is reading to me. Why don't you ever read to me, Juba?" "O lor', chile, you know I can't read." "But why can't you read? You're old enough." "Yes, honey, I'm old enough, but I never had no chance to learn." "Why didn't you?" persisted Frank. "Didn't you go to school when you was little?" "No, chile, never went to school. They didn't have no schools where I was raised." "Where was that?" "In ole Virginny." "Were you a slave, Juba?" asked Ernest. "Yes, massa, I was a slave." "And how did you get here?" "It was all along of the war. Ole massa he went to the war and got killed. Then young massa went, and he got killed, too. Then one day there came an officer--one of Abe Linkum's officers--and he told us we were free and might go where we pleased."