“He’s up to something,” thought David. “He wouldn’t act that way if he wasn’t. I shouldn’t wonder if he wants part of that money I am going to get from Don Gordon, but he needn’t waste his breath in asking for it. Every cent of it goes into mother’s hands.”
“Halloo, Davy!” said Dan, cheerfully. “I thought mebbe you wouldn’t care if I should come out and lend you a hand. I hain’t got nothing much to do this morning.”
David made no reply. He was waiting to hear what object his brother had in view in offering his assistance, and he knew it would all be made plain to him in a few minutes.
“You got a heap of traps to build, hain’t you?” continued Dan. “When be you goin’ to set ’em?”
“I am going to set some of them to-night,” was David’s reply.
“Fifty dozen is a heap of birds, ain’t it?” said Dan.
“How do you happen to know anything about it?” demanded David, who was greatly astonished.
“I heerd you an’ Don talkin’ about it.”
“Where were you at the time?”
“O, I was around,” answered Dan, who did not care to confess that he had intentionally played the part of eavesdropper.
David was silent, for he wanted to think about it. Here was another piece of ill luck. His experience had taught him that if he wished to make his enterprise successful, he must keep it from the knowledge of his father and Dan. If they found out that he expected to earn so much money, they would insist on a division of the spoils, and if their demand was not complied with, there would be trouble in the cabin. He had no fear of his father now, but here was Dan, who was an unpleasant fellow to have about when he was crossed, and he seemed to know all about it. There were troublous times ahead; David was sure of that.
“What does that feller up North want with so many quails, anyhow?” asked Dan, as he placed one of the oak blocks upon its end and began splitting off a shingle with the frow. “He can’t eat ’em all by hisself.”
“No, he wants to turn them loose and let them run,” replied David, with as much good nature as he could assume. “You see they had an awful hard winter up there last year, and the quails were all killed off.”
“Wall, what does the fule want to let ’em go fur, arter he’s bought ’em?”
“Why, he wants to stock the country. He belongs to a Sportsman’s Club up there. He and his friends will have a law passed keeping folks from shooting them for two or three years, and then there’ll be just as many birds as there were before.”
“Is that the way them rich fellers does?”
“That’s what Don says.”
“It’s mighty nice to be rich, ain’t it, Davy; to have all the money you want to spend, a nice hoss to ride, one of them guns what breaks in two in the middle to do your shootin’ with, an’ shiny boots an’ a straw hat to wear to church! I wish me an’ pap had found that thar bar’l with the eighty thousand dollars into it. I wouldn’t be wearin’ no sich clothes as these yere.”