“Oh!” said Bert, throwing down his book and jumping to his feet. “I haven’t so much money of my own, but perhaps I can borrow it of mother.”
He disappeared as he ceased speaking, while Dan stood chuckling over his good fortune, and hardly able to restrain himself, so delighted was he at the success of his stratagem.
“In course he’ll get it of his mother,” said Dan, “he’d get her head if he axed fur it. Didn’t I tell the ole man that I’d give him that dollar? I reckon we can both go to that shootin’ match now. Sarvent, Mr. Bert; much obliged to ye, sar,” he added aloud, as the boy came down the steps at that moment and handed him a crisp, new five-dollar bill; “if we an’ Dave can ever do ye a good turn, I hope ye’ll call on us.”
Bert said he would, and went back to his chair and his book, while Dan retraced his steps to the stable, picked up the shovel and his rifle, and went out into the lane. The shovel he hid in a fence corner, taking care to mark the spot so that he could find it again in the dark, if necessity should require it, and then shouldered his rifle and turned toward the landing. The money he carried in his hand, and feasted his eyes on it as he walked along. He could not admire it enough. He had owned but few bills so large as this in his lifetime, and he thought them the most beautiful things he had ever seen.
“I must make it go as fur as I can,” said he, to himself, “an’ I must have the other one, too. How am I goin’ to get it, I wonder? Mother can’t want another new dress right away, in course not; but she can be tuk awful sick with the ager, an’ want some money to buy some store tea, an’ we hain’t got none to give her. Won’t Dave jaw though when he finds it out? Who keers! He spends every cent he gits fur mother, an’ I reckon me an’ pop has a right to some of it. Pop’ll be awful oneasy to find out whar I got it, but if I tell him he’ll go back an’ get the other hisself; so I won’t tell him. I must get it broke too at the store afore I see him; kase if he knows I’ve got so much, mebbe he’ll want it all. ’Tain’t best to trust pop too fur.”
Perhaps the reader will now see why Dan was so anxious that his father should not prevent David from promising to break Don Gordon’s pointer. He wanted those ten dollars very badly, had made up his mind to have them; and now that he had half the amount in his pocket, he was supremely happy. He had robbed his brother, and abused Bert’s confidence, but those were matters that did not trouble him in the least. He had the money, and that was all he cared for.
CHAPTER IV.
THE SHOOTING MATCH.
THE steamboat landing toward which Godfrey Evans bent his way, was looked upon as a very important place by the settlers in that part of the state. The little collection of houses that had sprung up there contained a post-office, a few dwellings, and the only grocery and drug store to be found within a circle of twenty miles. The mail was brought there twice each week by a mounted carrier, who made regular trips between the landing and the county seat, which lay fifteen miles from the river. No particular packet stopped there, but there was considerable business done by the neighboring planters with the city of Memphis, in the way of plantation supplies and farming implements, and some steamboat called at the landing every week. Its arrival was regarded as an event of great consequence. Whenever five long whistles announced that a steamer was approaching, all the negroes and unemployed whites within hearing of the sound would hasten to the landing to see her come in, and watch the unloading of the cargo she brought. The sight was not a new or novel one to them, but the life they led there was so monotonous that any event, however trivial, that furnished them fresh topics for an hour’s conversation, was gladly welcomed. Godfrey Evans never missed a boat rain or shine. He was there nearly every day, and if he chanced to be absent some of the hangers-on always noticed it, and wondered what could be the matter.