It was the work of but a few seconds to find the implement, and then the father and son climbed the fence and struck off across the fields toward the potato-patch where the barrel was buried. When they reached it they found that the field was still planted to potatoes, and Dan noticed, with no little uneasiness, that it was closer to the house than he would like to have had it. The noise of the spade striking against the barrel--when they found it--or a word uttered in too loud a tone of voice, would arouse Don Gordon’s hounds, and they would alarm the family, the members of which they could see passing back and forth before the windows through which the lights shone. “Say, pop,” said Dan, suddenly; “won’t they see the holes in the mornin’? An’ if they keep on findin’ ’em, won’t they think thar’s somethin’ up, an’ watch to see who it is that’s a diggin’ ’em?” “No, they won’t, kase they won’t see ’em,” replied his father. “We’ll dig down till we find thar ain’t no bar’l thar, an’ then we’ll shove the dirt back again, an’ dig in some other place.” “How deep’ll we have to go?” “O, not much more’n the deepness of a bar’l, kase why, ye see Jordan wouldn’t have no time to dig a deep hole to kiver up the bar’l in, when he knowed that the Yanks was a comin’. He done a good thing fur us, Jordan did, in runnin’ away without tellin’ his missus whar that bar’l was hid. Now, Dannie, let’s try right here fust. Ye begin, kase yer the youngest, an’ I’ll set down an’ smoke an’ watch ye till yer tired. Now bar in mind that yer workin’ fur eighty thousand dollars! Throw it out with the fust shovelful an’ I’ll give ye half!” One to have watched Dan’s movements would have thought that he meant to accomplish something. He peeled off his coat and threw it on the ground, dashed his hat down beside it, tucked up his sleeves, moistened his hands and brought them together with a loud slap, seized the shovel and thrust it twice into the ground, bringing out each time scarcely more than a good-sized handful of earth, and then stopped and looked all around the field as far as his eyes could reach in the darkness. “Ten acres _is_ a heap o’ ground, pop,” said he. “Never mind that, Dannie,” replied his father, scratching a match on his shirt sleeve and applying it to the bowl of his pipe. “Thar’s a bar’l with eighty thousand dollars in gold an’ silver into it buried somewhar about here, an’ we must have it if we have to dig up the whole state of Missip. Laws a massy! what’s the matter of ye?” he exclaimed; for Dan had stooped down and seized his arm with a gripe that almost brought from him a cry of pain. Dan stooped still lower, pointed with his finger and said in a husky whisper, “Pop, jest look a thar!”