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 his absence. they welcomed him very cordially when he came in, two hours later, but asked him no questions. indeed, clarence did not wait to be questioned. he went to bed almost immediately, and don soon followed him.
the next day the general went off somewhere on business, and the boys were left to amuse themselves in any way they pleased. bert and marshall got into one of the canoes and set off to visit the shooting-box. they asked don and clarence to go with them; but the latter could not see that there was any fun in riding a mile or two in a leaky dug-out for the purpose of looking at an old shantee in the woods, and don had other business on hand, so neither of them accepted the invitation. clarence found the[pg 240] most pleasure in getting away by himself and thinking about the fortune of which he expected very soon to be the master, while don wanted to spend at least a portion of the forenoon in getting ready to receive godfrey evans when he came to the potato-patch that night; and as they both desired to be alone, they did not in any way interfere with each other.
as soon as clarence could find an excuse for so doing, he went up stairs to his room; and don, being left to himself, managed to secure a rusty key which hung on a nail in the kitchen, and to effect an entrance into a long-unused room in the rear of the barn; and he performed both these necessary operations without attracting the attention of any one.
as soon as he had locked the door behind him don breathed easier, and stopped to look about him. the room had once belonged to old jordan, the runaway negro, who had served as the general’s hostler in the days gone by. being a very faithful and a favorite servant, he had received many favors, and was also allowed the privilege of a room to himself. the apartment looked just as it did on the day the sable occupant deserted it. not a thing had been disturbed, and don was the only one who had entered[pg 241] the room since the morning following the day on which the levee was cut. when mrs. gordon became satisfied that old jordan had run away, she gave instructions that the room should be closed and locked and the window nailed down, so that nobody could enter it. jordan would be sure to come back some day, she said, and when he did, he would find his property secure, and his room waiting for him. but the years had gone by, the old fellow had never been heard from, and everybody began to think he was dead.
the first thing don did, after locking the door behind him, was to take from his pocket a small bundle, which being undone proved to contain a brush and a box of blacking. his next move was to open a huge chest that stood at the head of the bed. in it he found four articles he needed—a suit of clothes neatly folded up; a gaudily-colored handkerchief; a shining plug hat, that had once been the property of the general; and a pair of heavy plantation shoes, like those which used to be so extensively manufactured in new england under the name of “russets.” the fifth article don needed to complete the disguise he was about to assume was a walking-stick, and that stood in the corner behind the chest.
[pg 242]having selected everything he wanted, don quickly divested himself of his outer clothing, and in two minutes more had put on old jordan’s sunday suit, which fitted him well enough for all practical purposes. the shoes were much too large, but by putting a roll of paper in the toe of each, he found that he could walk in them very well. he wrapped the handkerchief about his head, leaving the ends hanging down behind, and taking care to cover up all his hair so that no one could see it, and placed the plug hat on the top of it. then the blacking brush, and the three-cornered piece of looking glass that was nailed against the wall, came into use, and in a few minutes more don had made such a change in his appearance that his own father would not have recognised him.
“i wish i had some of that burnt cork, or whatever it is, that the minstrels use to blacken their faces,” said the boy, glancing into the little mirror after he had finished his work. “my white skin shows through almost too much. but, after all, who cares for that? it will be dark when i present myself to godfrey, and i shall have no need to be so very particular about my hands and face. i say! this is going to a good deal of trouble for a little fun,[pg 243] isn’t it? no matter; if i can see godfrey run as he did on the night he saw the pumpkin with the lighted candle in it, i shall be well repaid.”
don could remember old jordan very well, for, although he was young when the latter went away, his peculiar actions and odd style of dress had made a lasting impression on him. besides, he had heard him described time and again; and his sayings had been so often repeated, and his style of locomotion so frequently imitated by those who knew him, that don thought he should have no difficulty in passing himself off for old jordan. now that he was dressed and ready for the performance, he thought it would be a great pity to assume his own character again before he had tested his disguise.
this thought had no sooner suggested itself to him than he prepared to act upon it. everything favored him. the door of the room, opening as it did into a narrow passage-way that led from the barn into the corn-crib, was out of sight of anybody who might happen to be on the barn floor. the only difficult thing for him to do, was to get out of the passage-way without being seen. that being accomplished he did not care who saw him—provided, of course, that the[pg 244] members of the family kept out of the way—for no one could tell where he came from.
“but i must first make sure of a way of retreat,” thought don, as he looked about the room for something with which to draw the nails that held the window. “i must get back into this room, somehow, and it may not be quite safe to get back the same way i go out.”
but don could not find a hammer or anything else to draw the nails with, so he broke them off by prying them up and down with the end of his walking-stick. then he raised the window, placing a stick under it to keep it open, and unhooked the shutter which fitted tightly enough to remain closed, even when it was not fastened. after that he looked into the mirror again, touched up one or two white spots on his hands and face, grasped his walking-stick, and slipped out into the passage-way. locking the door he put the key into his pocket, and moved cautiously down the passage-way until he could look into the barn.
there was no one there except the hostler, and he was busy and his back was turned toward don. moving with noiseless footsteps, the boy succeeded in walking out into the middle of the floor before he[pg 245] was discovered. he did not expect to be recognised by the hostler, for the latter was a new hand who had never been acquainted with jordan; but there were some negroes at work in the field close by who knew the old fellow he was now personating, and toward them don directed his course.
the hostler looked up from his work when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and seeing a strange negro approaching, spoke to him very civilly; but don took no notice of him. he was playing ghost now, and ghosts did not speak to anybody—at least he had never heard that they did. walking straight out of the door he turned toward the place where the negroes were at work, and had not made many steps before one of them discovered him. he straightened up quickly, shaded his eyes with his hand, and said a few words in a low tone to his companions, who also turned and looked at don. they gazed fixedly at him for a moment, and then broke out into a chorus of greeting.
“bress my soul an’ body, if dar ain’t ole uncle jordan!” they exclaimed in concert.
“it’s all right,” thought don. “if they can’t recognise me in the daytime, i am sure godfrey evans will not know me in the dark. i believe if[pg 246] i should go into the house i could fool everybody there.”
scarcely able to control himself, so great was his desire to laugh, don kept straight on toward the negroes, who had dropped their hoes and were hurrying up to shake hands with him. his silence seemed to surprise them greatly. they stopped short, looked curiously at him first, then suspiciously, and after exchanging a few words that don could not hear, began backing out of his way.
“’tain’t ole jordan, nudder,” suddenly exclaimed one of the negroes.
“o, hush yer noise, boy,” said another. “don’t i know dot ole white coat, an’ dot plug hat dot ole marse guv him on dot christmas day, jest ’fore he went away to de wah? yes, i does.”
“no odds,” replied the one who had first spoken. “’tain’t ole jordan. he’s dead, an’ dis is his haunt.” these words were all that were needed to frighten the superstitious field-hands almost out of their senses. they did not go into a panic and run, as don hoped they would, but retreated out of his way and watched him from a distance, looking at one another now and then, and shaking their heads and acting altogether as if they were at their wits’ end. don took a short[pg 247] turn about the field—he did not dare to stay out there very long for fear of being seen by somebody in the house—and then turned toward the barn again.
as soon as the corn-crib hid him from the gaze of the negroes, he straightened up and ran swiftly to the window that opened into old jordan’s room. throwing back the shutter he scrambled through as quickly as he could, and shutting himself in, laid down on old jordan’s bed and shook all over with suppressed laughter. he heard the footsteps and the voices of the negroes as they passed around the barn, looking for him; and the few words of their conversation which he overheard satisfied him that his experiment had been a decided success. he must have imitated old jordan perfectly to be taken for him in broad daylight.
