David deposited his basket and bundles on the steps that led to the loft, and making his way around the north wing of the house, knocked at the door, which was presently opened by Bert.  David asked if Don was in, and receiving an affirmative reply, was ushered into the library, where his friend, wearied with his day’s exercise, was taking his ease on the sofa, which had been drawn up in front of a cheerful wood fire.  David declined to accept the chair which Bert placed for him, and opened his business at once.

“Don,” said he, “would you be willing to take that money you gave me and keep it until I call for it?”

“Of course I would,” replied Don, readily.  “You haven’t paid that grocery bill, then?  Well, I wouldn’t either.  You are not responsible for it.”

“I offered to pay it, but Mr. Jones wouldn’t take the money.  He says my credit is good for six months.”

“Why, what has come over him all of a sudden?” said Don, who did not know that his father had had an interview with Silas that very day.

“I wish I knew.  There’s the money, and you won’t let anybody have it, except mother or me, will you?”

“You may be sure that I will take good care of it this time.  Don’t forget that bear hunt, tomorrow.”

“No.  I’ll be on hand bright and early.  Good-by.”

David hurried out, and picking up the basket and bundles he had left in the barn, started for home.  When he got there, he was surprised to see that Dan was at work.  He had pulled off his coat, rolled up his sleeves and with a frow and mallet in his hands, was busy splitting out shingles.  David said nothing to him, but went into the house to put away the tea, coffee and sugar and place the articles he had bought for his mother in a conspicuous position, so that she would be sure to see them, the moment she entered the door.  While he was thus engaged, Dan came in smiling, and trying to look good-natured.  David was on his guard at once.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve made up my mind to do by you, Davy,” said Dan, “an’ when you hear what it is, if you don’t say I’m the best brother you ever had, I want to know what’s the reason why.  I ain’t goin’ agin you like I told you I was.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” said David.

“No, I ain’t.  I’m goin’ to be pardners with you, an’ I’m goin’ to give you half the money we make outen them quail.  I’ll give you half what I’ve got hid away, too.”

“I have no claim upon that,” replied David.  “It belongs to Don Gordon, and if you are honest you’ll give him every cent of it.”

“I can’t do it,” said Dan.  “Kase why, I give pap three an’ a half of it, an’ spent six bits myself.”

“Then give him what you have, and tell him that you will hand him the rest as soon as you can earn it.”

“Not by no means, I won’t,” said Dan, quickly.  “Ten dollars ain’t nothing to him.”

“That makes no difference.  It is his, and he ought to have it.”