CHAPTER II.
DAVID'S VISITORS.
The trouble began the very next morning. While Godfrey was sitting onthe bench in front of his cabin, deeply engrossed with his ownthoughts, Dan came rushing up with a face full of terror, andconveyed to him the startling intelligence that a "haunt"--a Northernboy would have called it a ghost--had been seen at General Gordon'sbarn. It looked exactly like old Jordan, the negro, who had buriedthe treasure in the potato-patch; but of course it couldn't be oldJordan, for he had never been heard of since he ran away with theYankees, and everybody believed him to be dead. Godfrey listened ingreat amazement to his son's story, and, to satisfy himself of thetruth of it, went up to the barn, with his rifle for company. He hadnot been there many minutes before he received convincing proof thatDan had told the truth, for he saw the object with his own eyes--afeeble old negro, dressed in a white plantation suit, and wearing abattered plug hat, who limped along in plain view of him, and finallydisappeared, no one could tell how or when. That was enough forGodfrey. He started for home at the top of his speed, and scarcelydared to venture out of doors that night. He had an appointment withClarence Gordon at dark, but he would not have passed that barn inhis present state of mind, if he had known that he could make twiceeighty thousand dollars by it.
Bright and early the next morning, Clarence came down to see why hehad not kept his promise, and talked to him in such a way thatGodfrey finally agreed to meet him that night, the boy promising toprotect him from anything in the shape of a ghost that might crosstheir path. He kept his appointment this time, but he was sorryenough for it afterward, for the first object on which his eyesrested, when he and his companion reached the potato-field, was oldJordan, digging away as if he too were in search of the buriedtreasure. Godfrey would have taken to his heels at once, butClarence, who did not believe in "haunts," walked up and seized thenegro by the arm. After much argument, Godfrey was induced to do thesame, and then his fears all vanished, for it was a veritable humanbeing that he took hold of and not a spirit, as he feared it was. Hedeclared, too, that the interloper was the missing Jordan, beyond adoubt, and that he had come there to steal the money he had buried inthat same field years before. The negro was commanded to point outthe spot where the treasure was hidden, but nothing could be learnedfrom the old fellow. He would not speak at all, until Godfreythreatened to punch him in the ribs with his shovel, and then hedenied all knowledge of the barrel. Upon hearing this, Clarence andhis companion seized him by the arms, dragged him across the field,over the fence and down the road to Godfrey's potato-cellar, where hewas tied to a stanchion with a plough-line and left with theassurance that he should never see daylight again until he told wherethe fortune was to be found.
Godfrey was stirring the next morning before it was fairly light, andthe first sound that fell on his ears caused him to start and tremblewith terror. He listened until it was repeated, and then started posthaste for General Gordon's house. When he reached it, he found thewhole plantation in an uproar. Don was missing and a search was beinginstituted. Clarence came out about this time, and Godfrey told him amost astounding piece of news. It wasn't old Jordan at all whom theyhad captured the night before, it was Don Gordon. Godfrey was sure ofit, for he had heard him whistle as nobody in the world except DonGordon could whistle. As soon as Clarence recovered from hisamazement and terror, he mounted Don's pony and set out for thepotato-cellar to see for himself. When he reached it, he found thatthe prisoner had already been liberated by somebody (it was Bert, whowas guided to his place of confinement by Don's loud and continuedwhistling) and was no doubt on the way home by that time. What wasClarence to do? Of course he could not go back to the plantation andface his relatives after what he had done, and there was no otherhouse in the settlement open to him. Just then he heard the whistleof a steamer coming up the river, and that settled the matter forhim. He would go home. He jumped on the pony and was riding posthaste toward the landing when he was waylaid by Godfrey Evans, whorobbed him of twenty dollars, all the money he had in the world. Assoon as he was released, Clarence made his way to the landing onfoot, reaching it just in time to secure passage on the Emma Deane,pawned his watch for money enough to pay his way home, and finallyreached his father's house in safety, only to be packed off to sea onthe school-ship, where he remains to this day.
Don Gordon reached home with his brother's assistance, and has been aclose prisoner there ever since, not yet having recovered from theeffects of his night in the potato-cellar. Godfrey Evans is hiding inthe swamp somewhere, fearing that if he comes home he will bearrested for three offences--robbing Clarence, assaulting Don, andtrying to steal the eighty thousand dollars, which he still firmlybelieves to be hidden in the potato-patch. A week has passed sincethe occurrence of the events which we have so rapidly reviewed, andnow that you are acquainted with them, we are prepared to resume ourstory.
"And if your father doesn't come back, how are we to live thiswinter?" asked Mrs. Evans, continuing the conversation which we haveso long interrupted. "How is _he_ to live?"
"His living will trouble him more than ours will trouble us," repliedDavid, who, knowing that he was his mother's main dependence now,tried hard to keep up a brave heart. "It will be cold out there inthe swamp pretty soon. I saw a flock of wild geese in the lake thismorning, and that is a sure sign that winter is close at hand. Fatherhad no coat on when he went away, and he was barefooted, too. And asfor _our_ living, mother, who's kept you in clothes and coffee, sugarand tea, for the last year?"
"You have, David. I don't know what I should do without you. You area great comfort to me."
"And I'm never going to be anything else, mother. I never made youcry, did I? I ain't going to, either. I can take care of you, and Iwill, too. If I can't get work to do, I can hunt and trap small game,you know; and if I only had a rifle, I am sure I could kill at leastone deer every week. That, reckoning venison worth six cents a pound,would bring us in about thirty dollars a month. Who says we couldn'tlive and save money on that?"
"But you don't own a rifle," said his mother, smiling at the boy'senthusiasm.
"Well, that's so," said David, sadly. "But," he added, his facebrightening, "I shall have ten dollars coming to me as soon as DonGordon's pointer is field-broken, and you shall have every cent ofit. Besides, you haven't forgotten that I'm going to get a hundredand fifty dollars for trapping quail for that man up North, haveyou?"
"Have you heard from him yet?"
David was obliged to confess that he had not.
"He may have made a bargain with some one else before Don's letterreached him," continued Mrs. Evans. "You know this is not the onlycountry in which quails are to be found, and neither are you the onlyone who would be glad to make a hundred and fifty dollars by trappingthem."
"I know it, mother; but even if I can't get that job, I can get someother that will bring us in money," said David, who was determined tolook on the bright side of things. "I'll earn another ten-dollar billbefore the one I get from Don Gordon is gone, you may depend uponit."
With this assurance the boy kissed his mother and hurried out of thedoor, and Mrs. Evans, after clearing away the remnants of theirfrugal breakfast, also went out to begin her daily toil at the houseof a neighbor. David made his way around the cabin, and was met byDon's pointer, which, coming as close to him as the length of hischain would permit, waited for the friendly word and caress that theboy never failed to bestow when he passed the kennel in which theanimal was confined. The greeting he extended to his four-footedfriend was a short one this morning, for David had other matters onhis mind. He confidently expected that a few days more would bringhim the wished-for order from the man who had advertised for thequails, and when it came he wanted to be ready to go to work withoutthe loss of an hour; so he was spending all his spare time inbuilding traps. He had four completed already, and just as he had gotboards enough split out for the fifth, he heard the clatter ofhorses' hoofs on the road and looked up to see Bert Gordon and hisbrother
ride up to the fence.
"Why, Don, I am glad to see you out again," exclaimed David, droppinghis hammer and hurrying forward to greet his friend.
"Thank you," replied Don, accepting David's proffered hand. "I assureyou I am glad to be out again, too. It's a fearful bore to be tied upin the house for a whole week, but I was bound to come down here thismorning, if I had to come in the carriage, for I have news for you,"added Don, putting his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat.
"Has it come?" asked David, in a voice that trembled with excitement.
"It certainly has. It was addressed to me, you know, and so Bertopened it. The man says, he wants fifty dozen live quailsimmediately, and--but there it is, read it for yourself."
Don produced the letter, and David took it with a very unsteady hand.A hundred and fifty dollars was a fortune in his eyes, a larger onetoo than he had hoped to earn for some years to come. He opened theletter and one glance at it showed him that the money was his, if hecould only capture the required number of birds. They were to betrapped at once, the sooner the better, put into boxes, which were tobe marked C. O. D. and forwarded, charges paid, to the address at thebottom of the letter.
"Cod," repeated David, whose opportunities for learning how businesswas transacted had been very limited, "does he mean codfish?" Don andBert laughed heartily.
"No," said the former, as soon as he could speak. "C. O. D. means'collect on delivery.'"
"O," said David, in a tone of voice which showed that he did not yetfully understand.
"It is nothing to be ashamed of," said Bert; "we didn't know what theletters meant until father told us."
"That's so," said Don; "how is a fellow to know a thing he has neverhad a chance to learn? Now when the birds are caught, you put so manyof them in a box and on each box you mark the value of its contents.You send a notice of shipment to the man, and he will know when tolook for the birds. When they arrive he pays the amount of your billto the express agent, and the agent forwards it to you. You run norisk whatever, for the man can't get the quails until your bill ispaid."
"Now I'll tell you what we'll do," said Bert, who saw by theexpression on David's face that his brother had not made matters muchclearer by his explanation, "you go to work and catch the quails, andwhen you have made up the required number, we'll help you ship themoff."
"That's the idea," said Don. "We'll do anything we can for you."
"Thank you," answered David, who felt as if a tremendousresponsibility had been removed from his shoulders.
"I'll write to the man to-day, informing him that you will go to workat once," added Don. "I don't suppose you could tell, even within aweek or two, of the time it will take you to fill the order, couldyou?"
"I shouldn't like to make a guess," said David. "The birds rovearound so that a fellow can't tell anything about them. They areplenty now, but next week there may not be half a dozen flocks to befound."
"Then I will write to him that the best you can say is, that you willlose no time. How does the pointer come on?"
"Finely," said David. "He works better than half the old dogs now.He's smart, I tell you."
"He takes after his owner, you see. I hope to get firmly on my feetnext week, and if I do, I want to try him. Good-by."
"Now, there are two friends worth having," thought David, gazingalmost lovingly after the brothers, as they rode away. "I don'twonder that everybody likes them. A hundred and fifty dollars! Whew!won't mother have some nice, warm clothes this winter, and won't shehave everything else she wants, too?"
The boy did not see how he could possibly keep his good fortune tohimself until his mother came home that night. His first impulse wasto go over to the neighbor's house, and tell her all about it, but hewas restrained by the thought that that would be a waste of time. Hecould make one trap in the hour and a half that it would take him togo and return, and the sooner his traps were all completed, thesooner he could get to work. His next thought was that he would letthe traps rest for that day, go down to the landing, purchase somenice present for his mother and surprise her with it when she camehome. Of course he had no money to pay for it, but what did thatmatter? Silas Jones was always willing to trust anybody whom he knewto be reliable, and when he learned that his customer would have ahundred and fifty dollars of his own in a few weeks, he would surelylet him have a warm dress or a pair of shoes. When his money came hewould get his mother something fine to wear to church; and, while hewas about it, wouldn't it be a good plan for him to send to Memphisfor a nice hunting outfit and a few dozen steel traps? Like hisfather, when he first thought of the barrel with the eighty thousanddollars in it, David looked upon himself as rich already; and if hehad attempted to carry out all the grand ideas that were continuallysuggesting themselves to him, it was probable that his hundred andfifty dollars would be gone before he had earned them.
"Halloo, there!" shouted a voice.
David looked up and saw another horseman standing beside thefence--Silas Jones, who kept the store at the landing, and the veryman of whom he had been thinking but a moment before.
"Come here, David," continued Silas. "I am out collecting bills, andI thought I would ride around and see if you have heard anything ofthat respected father of yours during the last few days."
"No, sir; we haven't," answered David, hanging his head.
"Well, I suppose you know that he owes me eight dollars, don't you?"said Silas.
"I knew he owed you something, but I didn't think it was as much asthat," replied David, opening his eyes. In his estimation, eightdollars was a debt of some magnitude.
"That's the amount, as sure as you live, and if I had charged him asmuch as I charge others, it would have been more. I made a littlereduction to him, because I knew that he didn't own more of thisworld's goods than the law allows. What is to be done about it? Am Ito lose my money because he has run away?"
"O, no," said David, quickly. "I'll pay it, and be glad to do so. Wemay want groceries some time, you know, when we have no money to payfor them."
"That's the way to talk. Pay up promptly and your credit will alwaysbe good."
"All I ask of you," continued David, "is that you will wait about amonth longer, until----"
"Can't do it; can't possibly do it," exclaimed Silas, shaking hishead and waving his hands up and down in the air. "Must have moneyto-day. My creditors are pushing me, and I must push everybody whosename is on my books."
"But my name isn't on your books."
"Your father's is, and if you have any honor about you, you will seethe debt paid."
"That's what I mean to do, but I can't pay it now."
"Can't wait a single day," said Silas. "If the money isn'tforthcoming at once, you can't get a single thing at my store fromthis time forward, unless you have the cash to plank right down onthe counter."
"I have always paid you for everything I have bought of you," saidDavid, with some spirit.
"I know it; but your father hasn't, and if you want me to show youany favors, you will pay that debt to-day. You have always beencalled an honest boy, and if you want to keep that reputation, youhad better be doing something."
So saying, Silas wheeled his horse and rode away, leaving David lostin wonder.