“An’ I told you the gospel truth both times,” exclaimed Dan.  “That thar animile is wuth every cent of fifty dollars; an’ if I bring him back, it’ll be that much in Don’s pocket an’ ten dollars in mine.  I kin afford to work fur that, can’t I?”

“Very well,” said David.  “If you will produce the dog, safe and sound, I’ll take him to his master for you, and bring back the reward if he gives it to me.”

This interview had a perceptible effect upon both the boys.  It took away all Dan’s industry, and all David’s peace of mind.  The former had gained his point.  He had made his brother promise to take Dandy to his owner and bring back the reward, and that was happiness for one day.  He didn’t chop any more wood or take any more interest in the supper.  He seated himself on the bench again and resumed the agreeable occupation in which he had spent the most of the afternoon—­that of building air-castles.

David walked up and down the floor, with his hands in his pockets, thinking busily.  He told himself over and over again that if it were not for his mother, he would not care if he should never see his home again.  He was cheerful and happy when he was away from it, but it almost always happened that as soon as he crossed the threshold something transpired to make him miserable and gloomy.  His conversation with Dan had confirmed a suspicion that had been lurking in his mind ever since the pointer disappeared.  He had all the while held to the belief that Dan knew where the dog was, and Dan might as well have confessed it, for his face and his actions constantly betrayed him.  David believed, too, that his father had not left the country, as a good many people in the settlement seemed to think, but that he was hiding in the woods somewhere in the immediate neighborhood.  Of this he had received proof that was almost positive.  He knew, if Don and Bert did not, that it was something besides a bear they had driven off Bruin’s Island, on the day they went up the bayou with the hounds.  He had seen footprints in the mud that were made by a barefooted man; and more than that, having been the first to come out of the cane when the dogs led the way toward the head of the island, he had caught a glimpse of something, as it was disappearing in the bushes on the main shore, which looked wonderfully like the tattered hickory shirt his father had worn the last time he saw him.  This discovery, taken in connection with Dan’s behavior, led David to believe that his father and brother were often in communication with each other; and when the pointer disappeared, he promptly settled it in his own mind that Godfrey and Dan were to blame for it.  He was as certain now that Dan had had a finger in the business as he would have been if he had seen him going off with the dog; and he resolved that as soon as the next day dawned, he would take pains to find out whether or not he was correct in supposing that his father was Dan’s accomplice.