“I reckon I can; but if ye was in the house last night, whar all honest folks was, how did ye find out about this bar’l, Mr. Clarence? An’ who brung ye this pipe an’ told ye it was mine?”
This was the third or fourth time that Godfrey had asked this question during their interview, which had already lasted more than an hour, and Clarence replied now as he had done before—
“I can’t tell you just at present. I may tell you some day after you and I get to be good friends, and I find out that I can trust you. When you become better acquainted with me, you will see that I have a way of finding out a good many things.”
The two talked for an hour longer on these matters, and at the end of that time Godfrey was satisfied that what he had at first believed to be a dire misfortune, had turned out to be the luckiest thing that ever happened to him. He knew that Dan could never be induced to go near that potato-patch again in the dark, for he had been frightened out of a year’s growth already; but Godfrey needed an assistant all the same, and here was one worth having. Godfrey was astonished at the courage the boy exhibited. Clarence scouted the idea of haunts and ghosts and all other things of like character, and although he did not pretend to account for the invisible hands that had so often tripped Godfrey up and knocked his hat from his head, he was sure that there was nothing supernatural about them, and promised that if any such pranks were played on Godfrey while he was near, he would find out how they were done, and who was to blame for them. They came to a perfect understanding on every point that arose regarding their future actions; but there were some things connected with the past that remained a sealed book to Godfrey. The latter would have given every thing he possessed to know how Clarence came by the pipe that he had dropped in the potato-patch, and how he had found out who the owner was. He wanted to know how the boy had learned of the existence of the barrel with the eighty thousand dollars in it; how he had found out what his (Godfrey’s) name was; how it came that he could recognise him the moment he saw him; and why he offered to assist him in looking for the barrel. If he had been like most nephews, he would have gone straight to his uncle and told him what was going on in his potato-patch after dark. Godfrey tried his best to surprise or coax Clarence into giving him some information on these points, but without the least success; and he was finally obliged to make up his mind that they were mysteries that time only could clear away.
Another thing that surprised and delighted Godfrey was the condescension and familiarity with which the boy treated him. Clarence was, at the same time, much more respectful to him than Dan was, and Godfrey already began to feel perfectly at ease in his presence. He saw the force of one command that Clarence laid upon him, and readily promised to obey it, namely: that no matter how intimate they might be while they were by themselves, there was to be none of that sort of thing should they chance to meet in company. They must meet as strangers, and never so much as look at each other. They did not want to arouse anybody’s curiosity or suspicions, and so they could not be too careful.
When the matter had been thoroughly discussed and they knew just what they were going to do, they arose and walked slowly towards the cabin. They stopped on the way to shoot a few squirrels, and Godfrey, surprised at the accuracy of the little breech-loader, which seemed as light as a feather beside his long, heavy muzzle-loader, declared that he would have one exactly like it, just as soon as he received his share of the contents of the barrel. They held another short consultation when they reached the clearing, and after each had promised to be at the general’s barn as soon after dark as he could get there, Clarence started homeward, while Godfrey filled his pipe, and sat down to smoke and think. He was in such a fever of suspense that he never thought of getting himself any dinner, and even when supper time came, he could scarcely arouse himself from his air-castle building, long enough to eat his share of the corn-bread and squirrels. When it began to grow dark he grew more restless than ever, and his impatience to be at work increased every minute. He was not afraid of old Jordan’s haunt so long as he was in the presence of the general’s nephew, and neither was he any longer afraid of the work he might have to do before the barrel would be brought to light; for Clarence had discoursed in such glowing language of the comforts and pleasures that could be purchased for eighty thousand dollars, that Godfrey would have thought nothing of digging up twenty acres with a single spade, if he could obtain that amount of money by so doing.
“Dannie,” said Godfrey, who saw that the boy was loitering about as if waiting for something, “it’s time fur us to be lookin’ fur that bar’l agin, I reckon.”
“Wal, ye can look then, if ye want to,” was the dutiful reply, “but I don’t stir one inch. I don’t want to see ole Jordan’s haunt agin, an’ I don’t b’lieve the bar’l’s thar, nohow.”
“Ye’ve hit centre agin, Dannie, like ye allers do,” replied his father. “I don’t b’lieve it’s thar nuther; an’ if it is, ten acres is too much ground fur two fellers to dig up.”
“Then whar be yer goin’?” asked Dan, as Godfrey arose to his feet and picked up his hat.