“Ye’ll find a dollar fur me?” exclaimed his father, opening his eyes in amazement. “Whar?”
“Wal, now, it don’t make no odds to ye whar I git it, so long as I git it, does it?” asked Dan.
“Nary time,” replied his father, suddenly stopping in the road and extending his hand to his son. “Ye allers was a good boy, Dannie, an’ fur downright ’cuteness an’ smartness I’ll match ye agin them book-larnt fellers up to the gen’ral’s any time. In course it don’t make no sort of odds to me whar ye git the dollar, nor how ye git it nuther, so long as ye do git it. Ye ain’t a foolin’ me now?” added Godfrey, looking suspiciously at his son. It was not often that Dan had any money of his own, and his offer to lend so large an amount as a dollar, astonished and perplexed his father, who found it hard work to persuade himself that his ears had not deceived him.
“No, I hain’t a foolin’ ye,” returned Dan. “Ye go on down to the landin’ now, an’ when I come thar I’ll have the dollar in my pocket, an’ the shovel hid away somewhar so’t I can easy find it again.”
“Yer a good boy, Dannie, an’ I’m monstrous proud of yer,” said Godfrey, once more giving his son’s hand a hearty gripe and shake. “An’, Dannie, if the time ever comes when——”
Godfrey suddenly paused, while an expression of great astonishment and even of pain settled on his face.
“Dannie,” said he, in a tone of voice very unlike that he had just used in addressing his son, “ye hain’t been an’ found that bar’l with the eighty thousand in it, has yer?”
“No, I hain’t,” replied Dan.
“Kase if ye have, and ye don’t go havers with yer poor ole pop, what’s fit the Yanks an’ worked so hard to support ye like a gentleman’s son had oughter be supported, ye’ll be the meanest boy that ever was wrapped up in ragged clothes, an’ I’ll take the cowhide to ye, big as ye be!”
“Wal, ye needn’t go to ravin’ that thar way, kase I hain’t found the bar’l,” said Dan; “if I had, I should have brung it to ye the fust thing. I didn’t know it was thar till ye told me.”