“Yes, I do; but thar was ten acres into it, Dannie, an’ that’s a power of ground to dig over with one shovel.”
“But jest think of the eighty thousand,” said Dan.
That was just what Godfrey did think of, and it was the only thing that could have induced him to brave the darkness and the terrors of the general’s lane, and undertake so herculean a task as digging up ten acres of ground with one shovel. Was there not some way in which he could secure the contents of the barrel, or at least a portion of them, without the expenditure of any great amount of energy and strength?
“Dannie,” said he, laying his hand on the boy’s shoulder and speaking in a low, confidential tone, “I’ve been thinkin’ about something to-day, an’ when ye know what it is, I want ye to tell me if I ain’t the best pop in the world to ye. I’m gettin’ old, Dannie, an’ my joints is stiff, an’ the rheumatiz bothers me fearful, an’ ’tain’t healthy to be out arter dark, kase of the fever ’n ager—leastwise fur an ole man like me; but fur an’ amazin’ strong, strappin’ feller like yerself, it don’t make no matter. Now, Dannie, if ye’ll go an’ dig up that thar bar’l by yerself, I’ll give ye half of it, plump down, jest as soon as we open it—the very minute.”
“Wal, I won’t do it,” said Dan, promptly.
“What fur?” asked his father.
“Kase why, fur two reasons: If I dig up that thar bar’l all by myself, I’ll jest hold fast to the hul of it, an’ go snacks with nobody.”
“Hadn’t ye oughter give me something fur tellin’ ye about it?” inquired his father.
As Dan could not answer this question in any other way than by a reply in the affirmative, he did not answer it all, but went on to state his second reason.
“An’ in the next place,” said he, “I don’t know whar the tater-patch was—thar’s something else planted there now, I reckon—an’ if I did, ye wouldn’t ketch me out thar alone on sich a night as this, I’ll bet ye. Thar’s something white walks around out thar!”