WHEN Clarence reached home after his interview with Godfrey Evans, he found the house deserted by all the family save his aunt Mary. His brother, his uncle and all his cousins had gone off in the carriage to spend the day in riding about the country, and Clarence was left to amuse himself in any way he thought proper. He knew the time would not hang heavily on his hands, for he had much to think about. He wanted to make up his mind just what he would do when he came into possession of his share of the eighty thousand dollars. The thought that possibly he might never get a cent of it—that perhaps there was no barrel hidden in the potato-patch—did not once enter his head. The hope that it might be there, and that he might be fortunate enough to find it, was so strong that it became belief, and Clarence already considered himself as good as rich.
[Pg 232]Under pretence of writing a letter to his mother to tell her of his safe arrival at the plantation, he went up stairs, where he passed the rest of the afternoon. He made a very hasty toilet, spent about five minutes in writing the letter—he did not ask his mother for money—as he had expected to do—and then gave himself up to his meditations. He was sorry when his brother and the rest came back from their ride, for after that he could no longer make a hermit of himself. He was obliged to go down and mingle with the family, which he did with a very bad grace.
While they were at the supper-table something was said about the letter he had written, and Don volunteered to take it to the office that very night, so that it might go out with the first mail that left the landing, and requested Clarence to accompany him on horseback—an invitation which the latter, owing to his agreement with Godfrey Evans, was obliged to decline. So Don said he would go alone, and promised to be back shortly after dark, and in time to practise some duets with Clarence on the flute.
“Duets!” thought Clarence, in great disgust. “Some people have queer ideas of enjoyment. Music[Pg 233] is getting to be the biggest bore in the world to me since I came here, and I wish I had never learned it. If anybody will give me two cents, I’ll take that flute of mine and smash it over a chair. It cost me thirty-five dollars, too. I can spend my time to-night much more profitably than in practising duets. What if we should happen to alight on the barrel the very first time trying? Whew! It is too exciting to think about!”
Don rode down to the landing and back alone, reaching the barn about half an hour after dark. Finding that the hostler was not there to take care of his pony, he attended to the animal himself, working in the dark, as there was no lantern nearer than the house, and he did not want to take time to go after it. He hung up his saddle and bridle, and was about to close the barn-doors, when he happened to look toward the house and saw a figure darting along the carriage-way, making use of every tree and clump of bushes to conceal his movements, and stopping now and then to look about, as if he were afraid of being seen by somebody. Don took just one glance at him, and then drawing back behind the door, laid hold of a pitchfork that was always kept standing in the corner. Thieves visited the plantation now and[Pg 234] then after dark, and Don thought he had discovered one of them.
“That fellow is up to something,” said he, as he tightened his grasp on the pitchfork, “and if I keep an eye on him, perhaps I shall find out where our chickens and hams go so mysteriously. It must be some one who is acquainted with the dogs, or they would have raised a fuss before this time. Let him pick up something, if he dares, and we’ll see how quickly he will drop it, when he finds the tines of this pitchfork within an inch of his nose.”
Fairly trembling with excitement Don took off his hat, peeped cautiously around the edge of the door, and watched the motions of the supposed thief. The latter did not pick up anything, however, as Don hoped he would, but took his stand at the corner of the barn, almost within reach of the boy’s hand, and leaning against the building, looked down the road as if he were waiting for somebody. Then Don saw, to his great surprise, that it was his cousin Clarence. He was about to step out and speak to him, when he noticed that Clarence held a lighted cigar in his hand.
“Perhaps I had better stay where I am,” thought Don. “If I go out there, he’ll think I have been[Pg 235] watching him and playing the part of a spy; and then if father or mother should happen to say anything to him about his smoking, he would accuse me of telling it. I wish he would go somewhere else and enjoy his cigar, and let me go into the house!”
While Don was soliloquising in this way, Clarence suddenly darted off as if he had just thought of something, and making his way to one of the evergreens in the yard, drew from beneath its low, spreading branches a couple of shovels, with which he again approached the barn. Don looked on in great wonder, and, forgetting the resolution he had just formed, was about to reveal himself to his cousin, when the creaking of the gate announced a new arrival. It proved to be Godfrey Evans, who was at once taken to task by Clarence for his long delay. To Don’s amazement the two seemed as familiar as though they had long been acquainted. The question, Where had Clarence met Godfrey before, and what in the world could he have to do with that worthless man? was hardly formed in Don’s mind before it was answered, not fully, of course, but still in a way to increase his surprise a thousandfold, and to give him, besides, a pretty good idea of the situation. He overheard every word of the conversation that took place between them[Pg 236] and found that they had met there by appointment; that it was their purpose to dig up a barrel of gold and silver that was supposed to be buried in the potato-patch; and that Godfrey was very much afraid to undertake the task, for fear that old Jordan’s ghost might appear and frighten him away. Don also inferred, from something Godfrey said, that he had already seen the ghost once, and that a second view would be altogether too much for him. After spending five minutes in discussing the matter, Clarence succeeded in infusing a little courage into Godfrey, who accepted one of the shovels and led the way towards the potato-patch.
When the two had disappeared in the darkness, Don set the pitchfork back in its place, and drew a long breath—the first full inspiration he had taken for the last ten minutes. He had been so close to the conspirators all the time that he hardly dared to move a finger, for fear that he should attract their attention.
“Well, I wonder if anybody ever heard of such a thing as this before!” said he, drawing his handkerchief across his forehead. “If I didn’t have the evidence of my own eyes and ears, I shouldn’t believe it. Who told them about the barrel, I wonder![Pg 237] I’ve heard mother say that old Jordan buried a lot of silver-ware, such as knives, forks and spoons, for her during the war, but I thought she had got the most of it back again. I never heard her say she lost a whole barrelful, and I don’t believe she did. The only money that was ever buried on this plantation, was fifteen hundred dollars in gold, and that was hidden under the front steps of the old house. I’ve seen the place a hundred times. But eighty thousand dollars! My stars! I don’t believe father ever had so much money at one time in his life. But suppose it was there, and Clarence should find it; it isn’t possible that he would be dishonest enough to keep it. I shouldn’t like to think that my own cousin was so great a rascal. Hold on! I’ve just thought of a trick that will beat the hollow pumpkin all to pieces.”
Talking thus to himself, Don carefully closed and locked the stable-door, and with noiseless footsteps stole along the fence until he arrived opposite the place where Clarence and Godfrey were at work in the field. He could see them plainly, for they were but a few yards from the fence, and as he watched them it was all he could do to keep from giving a few dismal groans, just to see what effect the sound[Pg 238] would have upon them. The only thing that restrained him was the fear that by so doing he would interfere with the plans he had suddenly formed, and which he intended to put into operation the very next day. He did not want to frighten Godfrey away from the potato-patch just then. He wanted him to come again the next night, and by that time he would be ready to show him something. He stayed in the fence-corner for half an hour; and then knowing that if he remained there any longer, his absence would be certain to attract the attention of the family, and perhaps lead to more questions from his father and mother than he would care to answer, he arose and stole away toward the house.
“Have you seen anything of Clarence?” was the first question his cousin Marshall asked him, after he had distributed the mail he brought from the post-office.
“Yes, I saw him. He’s out there,” was the reply.
“Out there!” replied the general. “Out where?”
“Out near the barn when I first saw him,” said Don; and to himself he added: “I suppose I ought to tell now where he was the last time I saw him, but that would never do. I don’t want to get my cousin into trouble, and neither do I want to spoil[Pg 239] all my fun. Won’t I have things fixed for Godfrey to-morrow night, though? I’ll scare him so that he will never put his foot on the plantation again!”
“I don’t wonder that the time hangs heavily on his hands,” continued the general. “Our quiet country life probably has no charms for him, and he is lonely and homesick.”
This seemed to be the verdict of all the members of the family, who, being willing to make due allowances and give their city relative all the privileges he demanded, said no more about hi............