“I am powerful glad to hear it, Dannie,” said Godfrey, greatly relieved; “ye’d oughter brung it to me if ye’d found it, kase I’m yer pop. I’m the oldest an’ know what’s best fur us all, an’ it’s the properest thing that I should have the dealin’ out of the money when we gets it. But ye’ll find I won’t be no ways stingy. I’ll dress ye up like a gentleman, an’ ye shall have a circus hoss too, if ye want one.”
“Now, pop, don’t forget that, will yer?” said Dan, a broad grin overspreading his face, when he thought how delighted he should feel if he could only ride about the country as neatly dressed and as well mounted as Don and Bert Gordon, whom he greatly envied. “An’ I wants one of them guns what breaks in two in the middle, an’ you shove the powder an’ shot in behind, ’stead of drivin’ them down with a ramrod. An’ I want one of them fishpoles that a feller can take all to pieces an’ carry under his arm, an’ sum of them shiny boots that ye can allers see yer face in no matter whether ye black ’em or not—sich as Don wears on Sundays.”
“Ye shall have ’em all, my son,” said Godfrey, encouragingly, “an’ as many more things us ye want. Now here we are at the gen’ral’s lane. I’ll go on, an’ when I see ye agin I shall look fur that dollar sartin. I’ll be an awful tuk back, deceived an’ upsot man if I don’t have a hand in that shootin’ match,” added Godfrey, hoping by the use of adjectives to convey to Dan’s mind some idea of the intense and bitter disappointment he should feel if the expected dollar was not forthcoming.
Dan repeated the promise which he had made so often that he was tired of it, and the two separated, Godfrey keeping on towards the landing, while Dan turned up the lane that led toward General Gordon’s house. The boy made his way at once to the barn, and there found a negro hostler, who, after listening to his request, brought out a shovel, which he handed to Dan with many injunctions to be careful of it, and to return it the minute he was done using it. Dan readily promised, and, wondering what the hostler would think if he knew that the implement was to be used to unearth some of the general’s buried wealth, leaned the shovel up in one corner where he could find it again when he wanted it. Then placing his rifle beside it, he bent his steps toward the house, and passing around one of the wings, in which he knew the boys’ room was located, discovered Bert Gordon sitting by an open window reading a book.
“Hello, Dan,” said the latter, “are you looking for any one?”
“I come over to see Mr. Don,” said Dan, touching his hat respectfully and being very careful to put in the mister. Dan was always very polite when he had an object in view.
“He’s gone off somewhere—down to the landing, I think,” said Bert; “can I do anything for you?”
“I reckon,” replied Dan, “Mr. Bert, if ye please, sar, Dave axed me would I come up here an’ ax Mr. Don would he give him five of the ten dollars he promised him fur breakin’ that pinter pup, now.”
“Um!” said Bert, somewhat surprised at the request. “Why didn’t David come himself?”
“Wal, ye see, he hated fur to pester ye. Kase you’ns has allers been so good to us, an’ we’re so dog-gone poor that we hain’t got no money to buy a new dress fur mother.”