“Certainly,” replied the grocer, readily, and Dan was surprised to see that he held out his hand as if he expected to receive something.

“I hain’t got no money,” said Dan.

“That makes no difference.  I don’t want any money from David.”

“Then I’ll take a pair of them amazin’ fine lookin’ shoes of your’n—­number nines, please, sar.”

“All right.  Hand out the order.”

“Sar!” exclaimed Dan, opening his eyes.

“Why, if David doesn’t come here himself and tell me to give you the things, he must send a written order.”

“Dave, he done told me to git ’em,” faltered Dan.

“I don’t doubt it; but in order to have things straight, you go home and get an order for such things as you want and I’ll give them to you.”

Dan gathered the articles which he had purchased for his father under one arm, took his rifle under the other, backed slowly away from the counter and went out of the store.  He wasn’t quite so smart as he thought he was.  His shoes and stockings, and the ammunition for his rifle, which he thought he was going to get for nothing, were likely to cost him something after all.  It was an easy matter to cheat confiding fellows like Don and Bert, who were much more familiar with Greek than they were with the way business was conducted, but it was not so easy to deceive a man like Silas Jones.  Dan was surprised and disappointed, and of course as angry as he could be.  He walked rapidly along the road with his bundles, under his arm and his rifle on his shoulder, and it was not until he reached home and had sunned himself for a few minutes on the bench in front of the door, that he cooled down so that he could think the matter over.  But he could think to no purpose even then; and after resting a few minutes longer, he arose and went into the cabin.

He walked straight to the “shake-down” which he and his brother occupied, and drew from under the head of it a piece of rope he had placed there the night before.  With this in his hand he came out again, and after looking up and down the road, to make sure that there was no one in sight, he went around the building to the kennel where Don’s pointer was confined.  The animal came out to meet him, and Dan did not send him back with a kick, as he usually did.  He took off his collar, and having tied the rope about his neck, buckled the collar again and threw it on the ground, hoping in this way to give David the impression that his charge had liberated himself.  He then led the dog to the high rail fence which surrounded the lot, assisted him to climb over it, and left him there in the bushes, while he returned to the bench after his rifle and bundles.  These secured, he climbed the fence himself, picked up the rope and hurried into the woods, the pointer trotting along contentedly by his side.