“i do hear it,” said clarence, as soon as he caught the sound that had attracted godfrey’s attention. “there’s some one digging out there in the field.”

“that’s jest what it is,” said godfrey, in a trembling voice. “don’t let’s go no further, mr. clarence.”

“what’s the use of being afraid?” returned the boy. “it is a man, of course, for if it were anything else it couldn’t use a shovel. you are not afraid of a man, are you?”

no, there was no man in that part of the country that godfrey was afraid to meet on equal terms; and to prove it he laid down his shovel, clenched his hands and jumped up and knocked his heels together.

“i don’t know what you mean by that nonsense,” said clarence, impatiently. “if you are afraid, go home; if you are not, come along with me!”

as the boy said this he placed his hands on the[pg 195] top rail of the fence and vaulted lightly over it, closely followed by godfrey, who touched the ground on the opposite side almost as soon as clarence did. side by side they moved cautiously in the direction from which the sound of the digging came, and after advancing a short distance, godfrey threw himself flat on his face to make some investigations. the night being very dark, of course all objects on the ground were invisible to them; but by placing themselves in such a position that they would have the lighter sky for a background, any object they wished to examine was rendered quite distinct to their gaze. this they both proceeded to do, clarence following godfrey’s example, and when they arose to their feet again a few seconds later and compared notes, they found that both had arrived at the same conclusion—that there was a man in the field but a few rods away from them, and that he was digging a hole with a shovel. he had gone down so deep already that his legs as far as his knees were concealed, and that proved that he had not come there to steal potatoes. was he looking for the barrel? if so, who was he, and how did he find out that there was any barrel there?

“come on,” whispered clarence, as these thoughts[pg 196] passed through his mind. “we’ll soon know all about it. be careful not to make the least noise. if he starts to run go after him and bring him back. we must find out who he is, and what he means by this business.”

guided by the strokes of the shovel, which fell upon their ears at regular intervals, clarence and his companion slowly and cautiously drew nearer to the workman, who, greatly to their surprise, never paid the least attention to their approach. he must have heard the squeaking of clarence’s boots—they would squeak, no matter how carefully he stepped—and the rustle of the dry grass and vines that covered the potato-hills, but he was not frightened from his work. finally clarence was near enough to him to lay hold of his arm. even then the man never looked up or ceased his work, and clarence began to feel a he had never felt before. his heart beat rapidly and all his strength seemed to be leaving him, but he managed to say, in a very steady voice:

“look here, young fellow, this sort of game won’t work with us, you know. come up out of that hole and let’s see who you are.”

“o, my soul!” exclaimed godfrey, who had stooped down to obtain a peep at the man’s face.[pg 197] “turn him loose, mr. clarence! that’s ole jordan’s haunt! i’d know that ole white coat anywhar. o, my sakes alive!”

“come back here!” said clarence, in much the same tone that he would have used had he been addressing a disobedient hound. “don’t you dare run away, unless you want general gordon to know all about this.”

these words were spoken just in time. in a moment more godfrey would have been scudding across the field at the top of his speed. tremblingly he approached clarence, and had there been light enough to enable him to distinguish his features, the boy would have seen that they were as white as a sheet.

“you gave me to understand that you are not afraid of any man in the country,” continued the latter. “now prove it. reach out your hand and take hold of this fellow’s arm; and if you don’t feel solid flesh in your grasp, you may take yourself off as soon as you please!”

“is it a man?” gasped godfrey.

“of course it is. come here and see for yourself.”

“why don’t he say somethin’, then?”

[pg 198]“i suppose it is because he don’t want to. come here and take hold of him, and we’ll soon find means to make him use his tongue, if he has one!”

very reluctantly godfrey obeyed the command. he extended his hand and made a grasp at the prisoner’s arm, fully expecting that his fingers would pass through it as they would pass through the air; but to his surprise and intense relief his grasp closed upon a small but very compact bunch of muscle. he seized it firmly and held fast to it, and then his courage all returned, and he was as brave as clarence himself.

“now,” said the latter, “i want to take a good look at this fellow.”

striking a match on the sleeve of his coat as he spoke, he examined the man by the aid of the light it threw out, and saw that he was a coal-black negro, and that he was dressed in a suit of something that had once been white, but which was patched with so many different kinds of cloth that it was hard to find any of the original material in it.

“are you old jordan?” he demanded.

there was no answer returned by the negro, who was as passive in the hands of his captors as if he had been a lump of clay.

the capture of “ole jordan.”

[pg 199]“this won’t do, old fellow,” said clarence, angrily. “you can’t play off on us in this way. you had better open your mouth, or we’ll take you straight to the general. perhaps he can find means to make you tell what you are doing in his potato-patch at this time of night.”

“o, that ain’t no way to talk to a nigger, mr. clarence,” said godfrey. “i knows who he is, an’ i can soon make him speak,” he added, drawing back his shovel preparatory to punching old jordan in the ribs with it.

“hol’ on dar, boss!” cried the prisoner.

“thar, now, what did i tell ye?” exclaimed godfrey, triumphantly. “don’t sound much like ole jordan’s voice, though!”

“now that you have found your tongue, i want to talk to you,” said clarence. “would you like to make a thousand dollars?”

“o, i’m goin’ to make a heap more’n dat, boss,” replied the negro.

“you are? how are you going to do it?”

“jordan,” said godfrey, “did you come back to dig up that thar bar’l you kivered up here in this tater-patch on the day the yanks cut the levee?”

“dat’s tellin’,” replied the negro.

[pg 200]“do you know where the barrel is?” asked clarence.

“course he does,” exclaimed godfrey, “kase he’s the one that kivered it up. whar is it, jordan? pint out the spot, an’ ye shall go free without no harm bein’ done to ye; but if ye don’t tell——”

“hol’ on dar, boss!” cried the old negro, as godfrey once more drew back his spade.

“do you know where the barrel is?” asked clarence. “answer that question!”

“i reckon i does, boss!”

“well, where is it?”

“o, i didn’t say i’d tell dat, did i? it ’longs to my ole marse, gen’ral gordon.”

“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[pg 201] 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.”

“that’s the idea,” said clarence, joyfully. “no one will miss him, for those who have seen him since he came back think he is a ghost. where can we take him and keep him safe until he tells us what we want to know?”

“i reckon my tater-hole is as good a place as any,” said godfrey, after thinking a moment. “i[pg 202] don’t have nothing to put in it now, an’ nobody ever goes nigh it.”

“can we lock him up there?”

“no, but we can tie him up, an’ that will do jest as well. howsomever, i don’t much keer to go into any sich business as that, mr. clarence. s’pose it should come out on us?”

“how in the world is it going to come out on us?” asked clarence, impatiently. “you’ll not tell, will you?”

“no, sar,” answered godfrey, with great emphasis. “i couldn’t live here if i did.”

“well, i shall not tell, either. you may be sure of that; so i don’t see how it can become known. we can starve old jordan into opening his mouth, and when he gets ready to tell us where the barrel is, we’ll dig it up, divide the contents, and the first boat that comes along will take me away from here. i don’t care whether i go up or down the river, so long as i have my pockets full of money.”

“an’ what’ll i do?” asked godfrey.

“you can do as you please. you want to stay here and spend your share, don’t you?”

“but what’ll i do with the nigger?”

“i don’t care what you do with him,” was the[pg 203] boy’s mental reply. “so long as i get safely away from here, you and the nigger can settle the business between you in any way you see fit. that is a matter in which i am not interested.” but aloud he said: “o, we’ll get rid of him somehow. we’ll think about that when the time comes. now, we’ll give old jordan one more chance to earn his freedom, and if he doesn’t see fit to improve it, it is no fault of ours. he will have to go to the potato-hole and be tied up there.”

godfrey was not at all pleased with this arrangement, and he wondered why he had been foolish enough to suggest it. as much as he wanted to be rich, he would never have dared, had he been left to himself, to resort to such desperate measures as these to gain his object. the thought of it was enough to make him tremble. he wished he had never seen clarence, or had anything to do with him. the boy was so determined to go through with what he had begun, and seemed to be so utterly reckless of consequences, that godfrey was really afraid of him.

“say, mr. clarence,” said he, suddenly, “i ’most done forgot it, but it’s the gospel truth, an’ i hope i may be shot if it hain’t, that that tater-hole of mine has done fell in, an’ ain’t no more account fur tyin’ up niggers in. ’sides, i hain’t got no ropes of no kind.”

[pg 204]“all right, godfrey,” said clarence, who saw very plainly what his companion was trying to get at. “we will find out about that when we get there. but let me tell you one thing: if you think you are going to back out and leave me in the lurch, you are very much mistaken. if you will stick to me and do as i say, we shall both of us come out all right; but if you desert me, there’ll be a breeze raised here in this neighborhood that will make you think that war times have come back, sure enough. now, jordan,” he added, addressing the negro, “will you tell me where that barrel is?”

“no, sar!—no, sar!” said the old man, shaking his head most decidedly. “nobody gets dat bar’l an’ what’s into it ’ceptin’ ole jordan!”

“all right. come with us, and we will see if we can find means to make you think differently.”

clarence seized the old negro by one arm, as he spoke, godfrey at a sign from him took hold of the other, and together they led him across the field until they reached the road, down which they conducted him toward godfrey’s cabin. but little was said during the walk. the negro, who was evidently becoming alarmed, would have talked fast enough, but when his captors allowed him to use his tongue,[pg 205] he pitched his voice in so high a key that clarence, alarmed lest he should arouse somebody, sternly ordered him to hold his peace. the old negro changed his tactics now, and most solemnly declared that he didn’t know anything about any barrel; that his name was not jordan; and that he had gone into the field simply for the purpose of stealing some potatoes for his breakfast. but clarence only laughed at this, and assured him that he was not taking the right course to gain his liberty. potatoes didn’t grow three feet under ground, he said, and neither did prowlers, as a general thing, dig them with a shovel. they could do better work with their hands. if he would go back there and show them where the barrel was hidden, they would dig for it, and the moment they found it they would give him something for pocket-money, and release him. this the old negro protested he could not do, and clarence assured him that he should do it before he saw daylight again.

half an hour’s walk brought them within sight of the cabin, and there godfrey left clarence and the prisoner while he went forward to make sure that none of his family were stirring, and to secure a plough-line that hung up under the shed beside the[pg 206] corn-crib, that being the article with which he had decided to confine old jordan. he returned in a few minutes, and once more taking hold of the negro’s arm, he and clarence assisted him over two or three fences, through a thick brier-patch which covered the site of his former comfortable dwelling, and finally halted in front of the potato-hole. it was simply an out-door cellar, the peak of the roof rising to the height of one’s shoulder, and the eaves resting on the ground. the cellar was quite deep enough to permit a tall man to stand upright in it, as clarence found when he descended the stairs that led into it. it had successfully resisted the ravages of time, and with the exception of the steps, which were in a very dilapidated state, was as sound as it was on the day it was built. the roof was four feet thick, and godfrey assured his companion that the prisoner might shout for help as long and as loudly as he pleased, but he could not make himself heard as far as the cabin, unless he possessed lungs with as much power as a steam-whistle.

clarence now renewed his efforts to induce the negro to tell where the barrel with the eighty thousand dollars in it was hidden; but the latter declared that he did not know; and clarence, losing all[pg 207] patience, assisted godfrey in tying him fast to one of the stanchions that supported the roof. when this was done he felt his way out of the cellar—it was as dark as egypt in there—and godfrey closed and latched the door behind him. they both breathed easier when the work was over.

“well, godfrey,” said clarence, “your potato-hole seems to be in pretty good condition yet; and you did manage to find something to tie the old nigger with after all, didn’t you? now remember that it will not be safe for us to go near him during the daytime; some one might see us. we must give this cellar a wide berth for twenty-four hours. if the old fellow goes that length of time without anything to eat or drink, perhaps he will begin to think that we are in earnest.”

godfrey made no reply. his heart was not in the business, and he wished himself safely out of it. having gone so far, however, there was no way of retreat. if old jordan were released, he would be certain to tell of the treatment he had received, and that would bring him and clarence into serious trouble. he scarcely heard his companion’s cheerful good-night, so engrossed was he with his own gloomy thoughts.

[pg 208]having taken leave of godfrey, clarence walked rapidly toward his uncle’s house, little dreaming what a commotion the events of this night were destined to create there. he was not nearly so light-hearted as he pretended to be. now that he had time to think calmly about what he had done, he was frightened, and wondered how he had ever had the hardihood to engage in so reckless a piece of business. “no matter,” said he, trying his best to banish all his dismal forebodings, “twenty-four hours in that cellar will bring the old nigger to his senses; and when i once get my hands on the money in that barrel, i’ll bid good-by to america for a while. forty thousand dollars! whew! this is the only chance i shall ever have to make a fortune, and i am determined to improve it.”

arriving at his uncle’s house at last, he stopped for a few minutes to compose himself and calm the excitement which he knew must be plainly visible in his face, and then with all the nonchalance of which he was master, he opened the door and went in. he stopped in the hall to hang up his cap, and would have given anything he possessed, if he could have found some plausible excuse for going at once to his room. there was a merry family gathering in the[pg 209] back parlor, and he did not want to go in there. some one was playing on the piano, and the rest were engaged in most agreeable conversation, if one might judge by the peals of laughter that now and then rang through the house. clarence was hardly fit to go among them, he told himself as he glanced at the little mirror in the hat-rack. his hair was disheveled, his face flushed, and his boots and clothes were covered with dust. while he was making some hasty improvements in his appearance, his aunt mary came into the hall. she had heard him enter and came out to meet him.

“come in here, truant, and give an account of yourself,” said she, pleasantly. “what do you mean by deserting us every night in this unceremonious manner? clarence,” said she, shaking her finger at him, and sinking her voice almost to a whisper, “you’ve been smoking again!”

“i know it,” said the boy.

“do you find a cigar so much more agreeable than the society of your friends?”

“no, ma’am; but i have been in the habit of it so long, you know; and it is hard to give it up.”

“i suppose it is; but persevere and remember that ‘he that ruleth his spirit is better than he that[pg 210] taketh a city.’ where’s don? i thought he was with you!”

“i am sure i don’t know. i haven’t seen him since supper.”

“why that is very strange,” said mrs. gordon. “he has been out for the last two or three nights until nine or ten o’clock, and i don’t know what to think about it. come in, now. lucy has been waiting to practise the sharpshooter’s waltz with you.”

much against his will clarence was led into the parlor, and the curious glances which all his relatives directed toward him as he entered made him feel very uncomfortable. his uncle thought he acted ill at ease; bert’s mental comment was that he had been running a race with somebody; and marshall told himself that he must have been rolled in a dust heap. clarence could tell by the expression on their faces pretty nearly what they were thinking about, and it was with great effort that he aroused himself sufficiently to take any interest in what was going on. he played several tunes on his flute while his cousin lucy accompanied him on the piano, and as soon as he could do so with any show of reason, he bade the company good-night and went to bed.

[pg 211]“i’d like to know where in the world you have spent your evenings since you have been here,” said marshall, when he joined him in his room half an hour later. “just as soon as it grows dark you’re off, and that’s the last we see of you until ten o’clock. have you found a billiard saloon anywhere?”

“perhaps you had better watch me, if you are so very anxious to find out where i go,” growled clarence, in reply. “i am bored to death with this everlasting music, and it is a great pity if i can’t now and then take a quiet stroll and a cigar without exciting astonishment and setting the whole family to questioning me.”

clarence slept but little that night, for his mind was in a very unsettled state; and a dread of impending evil, which he could not shake off, continually haunted him. the first words he exchanged with the first person he met the next morning, gave him new cause for alarm. that person was bert, whom he encountered just as he stepped into the hall. his cousin’s face was very pale, and clarence saw that he carried his whip in his hand and was dressed for a ride.

“o, clarence!” cried bert. “what do you think has become of don?”

[pg 212]clarence could only look the surprise which this abrupt question occasioned him. at the same time he felt a sinking at his heart for which he could not account.

“he wasn’t at home at all last night,” continued bert. “we’ve made inquiries everywhere, and the last person who saw him was the hostler, who says that don went into the barn about eight o’clock, but he didn’t see him come out again. father and i are just about to start off to look for him!”

clarence was too amazed to speak. he hurried out of the house and to the barn, where he found his uncle in the act of mounting his horse. there were two other persons in the barn—the hostler and godfrey evans. the hostler was putting the saddle on bert’s pony, and godfrey stood around looking the very picture of misery. he brightened up when he saw clarence approaching.

“now, godfrey,” said the general, “will you do that much for me?”

“yes, sar, an’ i’ll start now,” answered godfrey, who made a few rapid steps toward the gate, and then suddenly stopped, faced about and came back again.

“you know the woods like a book,” continued the[pg 213] general, “and if don is lost, you will be more likely to find him than anybody else. good-morning, clarence! i don’t suppose you can tell me anything about don, can you?”

“no, sir, i am sorry to say i cannot,” replied clarence, who felt that sinking at his heart again when he looked at godfrey.

“he has lately fallen into the habit of roaming about of nights,” said the general, “and i don’t know how to account for it. the boy is large enough to take care of himself, but i don’t think he would stay away so long unless he were in trouble. i am going down the road to see if i can get any tidings of him; bert is going out into the country; godfrey has promised to search the woods; and if you feel like it, you might jump on don’s pony and ride down the river road a few miles. everybody down there knows don, and if he went that way before dark last night, some one must have seen him.”

clarence replied that he would willingly do all in his power to find the missing boy, and then bert and his father mounted their horses and galloped out of the gate. godfrey slunk away behind the corn-crib, and clarence, after telling the hostler to put a saddle on don’s pony, followed him. he found[pg 214] godfrey sitting on the ground and rocking himself back and forth as if he were in great pain.

“what’s the matter with you?” demanded clarence, and it was only by a great effort of will that he could bring himself to speak at all.

“o, my soul!” cried godfrey. “does yer know what we’ve been an’ done?”

“do i know what we’ve done?” repeated the boy. “what do you mean? speak out!”

“o, my soul, how can i?” moaned godfrey. “thar’s the gen’ral axin’ me would i s’arch the woods to find that lost boy of his’n, an’ thar he is, this blessed minute, tied up hard an’ fast in my own tater-hole. o, laws! o, laws!”

clarence reeled and fell heavily against the corn-crib, as if some one had unexpectedly dealt him a stunning blow.