At last the Emma Deane came down again.  David stood around with the rest and watched her while she was putting off her freight, and having seen her back out into the stream, was about to start for home, when Silas Jones came up and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Don’t go away,” said he.  “I want to see you.”  David waited an hour before Silas was ready to tell him what he wanted of him.  By that time the most of the hangers-on had dispersed; and when the last customer finished his trading, Silas stepped behind his desk and opened his safe.

“There it is,” said he, slapping a package of greenbacks on the desk and then holding it up to David’s view.  “How do you like the looks of it?”

David’s eyes opened to their widest extent.  He had never seen so large a package of money before.  He looked hastily about the store to see if Dan was anywhere in sight, and was greatly relieved to find that he was not.  There were three, or four men standing by, and they appeared to be enjoying David’s astonishment.

“Is—­is it mine, Mr. Jones?” he managed to ask.

“Some of it is, and some of it is mine.  There are a hundred and ninety-two dollars and a half here, and twenty-eight of it belongs to me.  Freight bills, you know.  The coops you put those birds in were as heavy as lead.  If you had put less timber in them your expenses would not have been so heavy.”

“Don thought it best to have them strong, so that they would not be broken in handling,” said David.

“That was all right.  Now let me see,” added Silas, consulting his books; “fifty-five dozen live quails at three fifty per dozen—­one ninety-two, fifty; less twenty-eight, leaves one sixty-four, fifty.  Just step around here and sign this receipt.”

David obeyed like one in a dream.  He put his name to the receipt, and, scarcely knowing what he was about, thrust the package of money which Silas handed him into his pocket and walked out of the store.

“There goes the proudest boy in the United States,” said the grocer.

Yes, David was proud, but he was grateful, too.  He was indebted to Don and Bert for his good fortune, and he was sorry that he could do nothing but thank them when they came home.  He went straight to the cabin, and to his great surprise and joy found his mother there.  She was alone in the house, but David, profiting by his past experience, made a thorough examination of the premises before he said a word to her.  Having thus made sure that Dan was not about, he pulled out his package of greenbacks and laid it in his mother’s lap.

There was joy in the cabin that day.  If David had never before realized that it is worth while to keep trying, no matter how hard one’s luck may be, he realized it now.  We will leave him in the full enjoyment of his success, promising to bring him to the notice of the reader again at no distant day, in the concluding volume of this series, which will be entitled THE MAIL CARRIER.