Dean seemed to himself to have slept not more than an hour, though in reality several hours passed, when he was aroused by being shaken not over gently.

"Time to get up?" he asked drowsily.

"Yes, it's time to get up," answered a rough voice.

Now he opened his eyes wide, and he saw Kirby looking down on him. At a flash all came back to him, and he realized his position.

He rose from his pallet and asked, "Can I wash my face and hands?"

"No; there is no time for it. Follow me!"

Rightly concluding that it would be useless to question Kirby, Dean followed him to the lower floor, where Dan had already seated himself at the breakfast-table. In obedience to a signal Dean sat down also, and ate with what appetite he could the repast spread before him. In addition to cold meat and bread there was what passed for coffee, though it probably was not even distantly related to the fragrant beverage which we know by that name. Dean drank it, however, not without relish, for it was at least hot.

Fifteen minutes sufficed for breakfast, and then Dan and Kirby left the cabin, motioning to Dean to follow.

Outside the cabin Kirby said, "Have you a handkerchief?"

"Yes," answered Dean, wondering why such a question should be asked.

"Give it to me!"

Dean mechanically obeyed.

Kirby took it, and, folding it, tied it over Dean's eyes.

"Are we going to play blind man's buff?" asked Dean.

"Yes," answered Kirby grimly, "and you are the blind man."

"I should like to know what you have done this for," said Dean, more seriously.

"I can't answer your question, but no harm will come to you if you keep quiet. You are going to take a walk with us."

"And you don't want me to know where you are taking me."

"You've hit it right the first time, youngster," said Dan.

"I suppose it's no use to resist," said Dean firmly, "but I must say that you have no right to take away my freedom."

"You can say it if you want to, but it won't make any difference."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"You'll know in time."

Dan and Kirby ranged themselves one on each side of Dean, and he was walked off between them. He asked one or two questions, but was admonished to keep silence. So they walked for twenty minutes, or perhaps half an hour, when Dan left his side, and Dean was compelled to halt in the custody of Kirby.

"It's all ready!" said Dan, reappearing. Again he took Dean by the arm, and they walked forward perhaps a dozen paces.

Then Kirby said, "Here are some steps."

Dean found himself descending a flight of steps—ten in number, for he took the trouble to count them. He was getting more and more mystified, and would have given a good deal to remove the handkerchief that bandaged his eyes, but it was impossible to do it even surreptitiously, for both arms were pinioned by his guides. At the end of the flight of steps they came again to level ground, and walked forward perhaps a hundred feet. Dean suspected from the earthy odor that they were under the ground. He soon learned that his supposition was correct, for his guides halted, and loosened their hold upon his arms.

"You can remove the handkerchief now," said Kirby.

Dean lost no time in availing himself of this permission.

He looked around him eagerly.

He found himself in what appeared to be not a natural, but an artificial cave—dark, save for the light of a kerosene lamp, which was placed on a little rocky shelf, and diffused a sickly light about the cellar. At the end of the room there was a passage leading, as it seemed, to some inner apartment.

Dean looked about in surprise.

"What place is this?" he asked.

"You may call it a cave if you like."

"How long are you going to stay here?"

"About five minutes."

"That will be enough for me," said Dean shrugging his shoulders.

"Hardly. You are to stay longer."

"Are you going to leave me here—under the earth?" asked Dean, in alarm.

"Don't you be scared, youngster—you will be safe. You won't be alone. Here, Pompey."

Through the inner passage came a stunted negro, with a preternaturally large head, around which was pinned a cotton cloth in the shape of a turban. He bowed obsequiously, and eyed Dean with evident curiosity mingled with surprise.

"This boy has come to visit you, Pompey," said Kirby, with grim pleasantry.

"Yah, yah, massa!" chuckled Pompey, showing the whites of his eyes.

"You must take good care of him. Give him something to eat when he is hungry, but don't let him escape."

"Yah, massa!"

"He will ask you questions, but you must be careful what you tell him. Remember, he is not one of us, and he mustn't learn too much."

"Yah, massa! I understand. What's his name?"

"Dean."

"Dat's a funny name. I never heard the like."

"Yes, you have. Dan's like it."

"So it am, massa! Dat's a fac'."

"Now, youngster, I am going to leave you in the company of Pompey here, who will do his best to make you comfortable and happy."

"When are you coming back for me?" asked Dean, apprehensively.

"Well, that depends upon circumstances. You'd better not trouble yourself about that. Perhaps in a week, perhaps in a month. In the meantime you will have free board, and won't have to work for a living. There are a good many who would like to change places with you."

"If you meet any such, send them along," said Dean, with a jocoseness that thinly veiled a feeling bordering upon despair.

"Ha, ha! That's a good one. Dan, our young friend is becoming a practical joker. That's right, young one. Keep up good courage. I must bid you good-bye now. Come along, Dan."

The two turned away, and Dean with despairing eyes saw them going back to freedom and the light of day, while he was left in the company of an ignorant black in a subterranean dungeon.

"Law, honey, don't take on!" said Pompey, good-naturedly. "There ain't no harm comin' to you."

"I should think harm had come to me. Here am I shut up in this black hole!"

"'Taint so bad, honey, when you're used to it. I didn't like it first myself."

"How long have you lived down here?"

"I can't justly say."

"Is it a year, or a month?"

"I can't say, young massa," answered Pompey, who was evidently bent on carrying out Kirby's admonitions not to tell too much to his young guest.

"When did you come hyah?" asked Pompey, thinking it only fair that he should ask a question.

"Into this neighborhood? I only came yesterday."

"And where did you meet Massa Kirby?"

"At the cabin of the other man—Dan. But I had seen him before. I met him first at the East, in New York State."

"In York State!" repeated Pompey.

"Yes. We traveled together for a while."

Pompey nodded his head slowly, but evidently he had no very clear idea of what it all meant.

"Are you hungry, young massa?" he asked, after a pause.

"No; I have had my breakfast."

"I must go to work," said the negro, turning to go back by the narrow passage from which he had emerged.

"May I go with you?"

"Yes, young massa, if you want to."

Anything was better than being left alone in the dark, cavernous room, and Dean followed the negro, who was so short that he could readily look over his head, till at the end of the passage he emerged into another apartment, which was fitted up as a kitchen, and contained a stove. From the stove rose an upright funnel, which pierced the roof, providing a vent for the smoke when there was a fire, and allowing air to come in from above. It flashed upon Dean that it was through this funnel had come the mysterious sounds which puzzled him so much when he was reclining in the wood.