“I’m sartin he is,” returned Godfrey, earnestly.
“Then you have nothing to fear from him.”
“Not from him, I know; but his haunt is what bothers me. I’ve seed that once, an’ nobody can’t make me say I didn’t.”
“I’ll promise you that you shall never see it again,” said Clarence, impatiently. “Why, man alive, just think of it! Some people would be willing to work and slave for a whole life time to make forty thousand dollars, and here we have a chance to dig it up in half an hour—in less time, too, if we happen to strike the right spot. Doesn’t that thought put any courage or ambition into you?”
Probably it did, for without another word Godfrey seized the shovel that Clarence extended toward him, and hurried away in the direction of the potato-patch.
We need not follow them any farther, for they did not find the hidden treasure that night. It will be enough to say that, following the example Clarence set him, Godfrey did something he had not done before for a number of years—he worked until he raised a copious perspiration; that he kept a bright look out for the eye of fire that had so badly frightened him and Dan the night before; that he and his companion dug a dozen holes in what they supposed to be the most “likely” spots, in each case shovelling back the earth they had thrown out, so that their work might not attract the attention of any of the general’s field hands in the morning; that after three hours’ hard labor Godfrey handed his shovel to Clarence, who promised to put it back where he had found it; and that the two separated with mutual promises to meet again at the same place and hour on the following evening. Neither of them were disheartened by their failure. On the contrary, Godfrey was encouraged, for he had learned to his satisfaction that if old Jordan’s haunt had really come back there to protect the barrel, he would not appear so long as Clarence Gordon was on the ground. He went home and slept soundly after his unusual exercise, and awoke the next morning feeling that he was nearer to attaining his hopes than he had ever been before.
“Yes, jest a quarter of an acre nearer,” said he, “kase what ground we dug up last night, won’t never have to be dug up agin. Mr. Clarence is better to have along in sich work as that nor an army of them lazy Dans would be, kase he ain’t afeared of nothing, an’ pitches in an’ does his share. It was jest amazin’ how he did fling the dirt outen them holes.”
Breakfast being over Godfrey’s pipe came into use, and he smoked and meditated during the best part of the forenoon. His family, as usual, were all away, and he had the premises to himself. There was no one to disturb him, and he could build air-castles to his heart’s content. In this agreeable occupation he passed the time until eleven o’clock, and was then called back to earth again, by the sound of footsteps coming rapidly along the road. He looked up, and saw that the one who had so rudely aroused him was his hopeful son Dan, whose whole appearance indicated that he had something marvellous to communicate. One look was enough to satisfy Godfrey of this fact, and his heart fairly came up into his mouth. He began to imagine all sorts of evil things directly; and being anxious to know the worst at once, he tried hard to speak to Dan, but could not utter a sound to save his life.
Dan lost no time in passing over the fifty yards that lay between him and the cabin. As he threw himself on the bench beside his father, his rifle slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground, and his head moved from side to side as if he had lost all control of it.
“Now, then!” exclaimed Godfrey, finding his tongue at last.