These words, and the way they were spoken, were enough to arouse Dan’s suspicions at once. His father never called him a good boy or addressed him in that wheedling tone, unless he had an object to gain. And the fact that he was going off alone in the dark was another thing that looked suspicious. He had not done such a thing for long months; and after a little reflection Dan very naturally arrived at the conclusion that there was something going on that his father did not want him to know anything about. He went into the house and stayed a minute or two, and then came out and hurried down the road towards General Gordon’s lane. Meanwhile Godfrey was making the best of his way toward the barn, where he expected to meet his new friend, Clarence. He walked with noiseless footsteps, casting anxious glances on all sides of him, and acting altogether like a man who expected to encounter some terrible danger. Indeed this was just what he did expect. He opened the creaking gate that led from the lane into the barn-yard, and was frightened almost out of his senses when he saw a dark figure rise suddenly into view and come toward him. His first impulse was to take to his heels; but he checked it and drew a long breath of relief when he heard a well-known voice say, in no very amiable tones: “Have you arrived at last? I began to think you were never coming.” “Yes, I’ve come,” replied Godfrey, “but I ’most wish I had stayed to hum. ’Tain’t honest, sich work as this yere hain’t. If thar’s a bar’l with eighty thousand dollars in gold an’ silver into it, hid in the gen’ral’s tater-patch, we’d oughter tell him, ’stead of goin’ an’ diggin’ it up ourselves!” “Hallo! what’s come over you all of a sudden?” demanded Clarence, angrily. “You didn’t talk this way when I last saw you.” “I know it; but it was daylight then.” “Yes; and now that it is dark you have turned coward, have you?” “Wal--no! but if I should see ole Jordan’s white coat down thar in that tater-patch, I do think in my soul it would be the last of me.” “Well, you’ll not see him or his white coat, either. You haven’t heard of him for long years, and who knows but he is dead?” “I’m sartin he is,” returned Godfrey, earnestly. “Then you have nothing to fear from him.” “Not from him, I know; but his haunt is what bothers me. I’ve seed that once, an’ nobody can’t make me say I didn’t.” “I’ll promise you that you shall never see it again,” said Clarence, impatiently. “Why, man alive, just think of it! Some people would be willing to work and slave for a whole life time to make forty thousand dollars, and here we have a chance to dig it up in half an hour--in less time, too, if we happen to strike the right spot. Doesn’t that thought put any courage or ambition into you?” Probably it did, for without another word Godfrey seized the shovel that Clarence extended toward him, and hurried away in the direction of the potato-patch.