“He’s got more’n his share already,” said Godfrey.
“Den I reckon I’se got jest as much right to dat bar’l an’ what’s into it, as anybody,” said the negro; “mebbe more, kase I’se the one that hid it!”
“Hold on a minute, Godfrey,” said Clarence, as his companion raised the shovel threateningly. “Step this way, a moment. Old man, you stay right where you are. If you make any attempt to run, I’ll throw this shovel at you!”
Clarence and Godfrey drew off on one side, just out of ear-shot of the negro, and the former said, in a suppressed whisper:
“Are you sure that’s old Jordan?”
“Just as sure as I can be,” replied Godfrey. “’Tain’t his haunt—I can see that now—but ole Jordan his own self.”
“I am glad you are so positive, for there is something about this business that doesn’t look just right to me. If it is he, he has come back to dig up that barrel himself. I wonder if it is somewhere about the spot where he was digging! How are we going to make him tell?”
“Lick it outen him,” suggested Godfrey.
“O, that would never do in the world. He’d raise the neighborhood with his howling.”
“Wal, mebbe goin’ without grub an’ water fur a few hours will loosen up his tongue.”