Dan made all haste to do his trading, and taking his stockings and shoes under his arm, set out for home, avoiding the road, as he always did when Don and Bert were about, and skulking around through the woods and fields.  When he reached the cabin, he seated himself upon the bench beside the door, and there he remained building air-castles until four o’clock in the afternoon.  Then he began to bestir himself, and David, who came home that night before his mother did, was surprised to find a roaring fire on the hearth, a pile of wood large enough to last all the evening beside it, and in a pan upon the table a half a dozen squirrels, dressed and ready for the frying-pan.

“What in the world is up now?” thought David.  “Dan’s got an axe to grind, for he never does such things, unless he intends to make something by it.”

“Halloo, Davy!” exclaimed Dan, cheerfully.  “I thought mebbe you’d be cold when you come hum, so I built up a fire to warm you.  Jest look at them thar squirrels, will you?  Every one on ’em was shot through the head.  Can you beat that?”

“No,” answered David.  “It can’t be beaten.”

“If we had a few quail now, we’d have a bully supper, wouldn’t we?” continued Dan.  “You don’t seem to shoot no more quail lately, do you, Davy?”

“O, I can’t hunt them without a dog to tell me where they are.”

“Hain’t you never heard nothin’ from that pinter pup at all?”

“Not a word.”

“I’m sorry.  I wish I knowed whar he was, so’t I could fetch him hack.  I’m scandalous mad at myself fur takin’ that money from you an’ Don, an’ if I had ten dollars I’d give ’em back to-night; but I hain’t got ‘em, an’ so I’m goin’ to try an’ find his dog fur him.”

“He’ll be very glad to get him,” said David, who knew very well that his brother had some other reason for taking this sudden interest in the pointer.

“I want to act decent now, like a gentleman had oughter act,” Dan went on; “an’ if I do what I can fur Don, do you reckon he’ll call it squar’?”

“I don’t know.  You must talk to him about that.”

“But I ain’t agoin’ to face him ’till I know how he feels towards me, I bet you.  I don’t know whar the dog is, more’n the man in the moon; but I’m kinder scentin’ round, when I hain’t got no work to do, an’ if I should happen to find him, would you take him to Don fur me?”

“Of course I would, and be very glad to do it.”

“Then I’ll do what I kin, an’ if I do say it myself, I kin find him if anybody kin.  I kin afford to spend all my time lookin’ fur him, kase I was down to the landin’ to-day, an’ I seed a notice stuck up thar sayin’ that Don’ll give ten dollars fur him an’ ax no questions.  What’s the matter of you?” demanded Dan, as David turned quickly about and walked toward the door.  “Hain’t goin’ off mad, be you?”

“I don’t know what to make of you, Dan,” replied David.  “A little while ago you gave me to understand that the reason why you wanted to bring the dog back to Don, was because you wanted to make everything square between you and him; and now you say you want to do it because Don has offered a reward for him.”