“Didn’t ye tell me it didn’t make no odds to ye whar I got it so long as I did get it?” asked Dan.
“That was yesterday,” answered Godfrey. “It didn’t make no odds to me yesterday, but it’s to-morrer now, an’ it makes a heap of odds. It’s my bounden duty to find out whar ye got it an’ how ye came by it, kase mebbe it wasn’t honest.”
“Whoop!” yelled Dan, jumping up and knocking his heels together in the excess of his rage. “Honest! It’s a heap honester nor it is to go arter dark into a man’s tater-patch an’ dig up the bar’l o’ money he’s got kivered up thar. Now, ole man, I’ll tell ye what’s the gospel truth about that thar bar’l,” added Dan, a bright idea striking him. “If ye’ll give my money back to me, I won’t say nothing about it; but if ye don’t, I’ll go straight to the gen’ral——”
“Whoop!” shouted Godfrey, in his turn.
As the word left his lips he jumped up from the bench and made a furious rush toward his son, but did not succeed in laying hands upon him. The place where Dan was standing became suddenly vacant, and a moment afterward a very scared face looked at Godfrey between the rails of the fence that surrounded the cabin.
“Yes, I will,” repeated Dan, who felt comparatively safe now. “I’ll go straight to the gen’ral an’ tell him what ye’re up to, an’ then what’ll become of yer bar’l with the eighty thousand into it?”
“An’ what’ll become of yer shiny hats an’ boots, an’ yer circus hosses, an’ yer guns that break in two in the middle?” retorted Godfrey, as soon as his rage would allow him to speak.
“I don’t care,” replied Dan, “I want my six dollars and six bits fust; an’ if I don’t get ’em, I’ll knock all yer ’rangements higher nor the moon. I will, I don’t care if I don’t sleep in the house fur a month arter it.”
“Ye’ll never sleep in my house again if ye do that,” said Godfrey. “But, Dannie, thar ain’t no use in me an’ you fightin’ over these few greenbacks, when thar’s eighty thousand dollars in gold and silver to be had fur the diggin’.”
“I don’t want to fight nuther, but I want my money,” said Dan.