His father looked at him suspiciously. “Whar are ye goin’ to git it down here, an’ who’s goin’ to give it to ye?” he asked.
“Didn’t ye tell me that it don’t make no sort of odds to ye whar I git it, or who gives it to me, so long as I git it?” demanded Dan, impatiently. “Now, ye go down to the grove an’ stay thar, an’ when I come to ye, I’ll give ye the dollar.”
Godfrey was satisfied with this assurance—at least he appeared to be. He walked along with Dan until they came to the turn in the road, and then he went toward the grove where the shooting was going on, while Dan turned toward the post-office. The latter watched his father until he saw him join one of the little groups of men who were congregated under the trees, and then faced about and entered the store.
There were several customers in there, and Dan was obliged to await his turn. It came at last, and then he handed out his five-dollar bill, with the request that it might be changed into notes of smaller denomination. The grocer rapidly complied, and as Dan gathered up his money and turned to go out, he was astonished to find his father standing at his elbow. Being barefooted, Godfrey had entered the store and placed himself close by his son’s side without being observed. His face wore a look of amazement that was curious to behold. He did not know how much money Dan had in his possession, but he judged by the size of the roll he held in his hands, that it must be a large amount. He marvelled greatly as he followed the boy out of the store.
“Thar’s yer dollar, pop,” said Dan, who, finding that his secret was discovered, thought it best to put a bold face on the matter. “I told ye I’d be sartin to get it fur ye. Ye mustn’t forget to pay it back, or to get me them nice things ye promised when we find that bar’l.”
“No, I won’t,” said Godfrey, smiling joyously as he felt the bill between his fingers. “I’m goin’ to be a good pop to ye, Dannie, an’ now I’ll tell ye what I’ve been a thinkin’ of doin’ fur ye: yer gettin’ to be an amazin’ fine, strappin’ big boy, Dannie. Yer a’most as high up in the world as yer pop, an’ purty soon ye’ll be gettin’ to be a young man. Then ye’ll want store clothes an’ all sorts of nice things, and mebbe me an’ yer poor ole mam’ll lose yer, kase ye’ll be lookin’ around fur a wife.”
Dan grinned and thought of the little tow-headed girl he had so often been on the point of seeing safe home from church. The reason he didn’t do it was because when the critical time came, he could never muster up courage enough to speak to her.
“Yes, ye will,” continued his father; “an’ then ye’ll find that thar hain’t nothin’ in the world that takes with the gals, an’ the men folks too, like good clothes an’ shiny boots an’ hats. But it takes money to get them things. Now, I hain’t a goin’ to be the mean ole hulks to ye that my pop was to me. He left me with empty hands, to make a livin’ as best I could, but I’m goin’ to be a good pop to ye, an’ give ye a fine start. I’m goin’ to give ye half that bar’l when I find it.”
“How much’ll that be?” asked Dan.
“O, it’ll be a heap, I tell yer,” replied Godfrey, growing animated and hoping thus to work upon Dan’s feelings sufficiently to accomplish the object he had in view; “as much as—as—twenty thousand anyhow, an’ mebbe sixty,” added Godfrey, who was not very quick at figures. “An’ then, Dannie, if yer a monstrous good boy, an’ allers do jest as I tell ye, mebbe I’ll buy out Gen’ral Gordon an’ give ye his place. Then ye can have circus hosses, as many as ye want, an’ some of them amazin’ fine guns what break in two in the middle, an’ a sail-boat on the lake, an’ all the other nice things sich as Bert and Don has got.”