“But you don’t own a rifle,” said his mother, smiling at the boy’s enthusiasm.

“Well, that’s so,” said David, sadly.  “But,” he added, his face brightening, “I shall have ten dollars coming to me as soon as Don Gordon’s pointer is field-broken, and you shall have every cent of it.  Besides, you haven’t forgotten that I’m going to get a hundred and fifty dollars for trapping quail for that man up North, have you?”

“Have you heard from him yet?”

David was obliged to confess that he had not.

“He may have made a bargain with some one else before Don’s letter reached him,” continued Mrs. Evans.  “You know this is not the only country in which quails are to be found, and neither are you the only one who would be glad to make a hundred and fifty dollars by trapping them.”

“I know it, mother; but even if I can’t get that job, I can get some other that will bring us in money,” said David, who was determined to look on the bright side of things.  “I’ll earn another ten-dollar bill before the one I get from Don Gordon is gone, you may depend upon it.”

With this assurance the boy kissed his mother and hurried out of the door, and Mrs. Evans, after clearing away the remnants of their frugal breakfast, also went out to begin her daily toil at the house of a neighbor.  David made his way around the cabin, and was met by Don’s pointer, which, coming as close to him as the length of his chain would permit, waited for the friendly word and caress that the boy never failed to bestow when he passed the kennel in which the animal was confined.  The greeting he extended to his four-footed friend was a short one this morning, for David had other matters on his mind.  He confidently expected that a few days more would bring him the wished-for order from the man who had advertised for the quails, and when it came he wanted to be ready to go to work without the loss of an hour; so he was spending all his spare time in building traps.  He had four completed already, and just as he had got boards enough split out for the fifth, he heard the clatter of horses’ hoofs on the road and looked up to see Bert Gordon and his brother ride up to the fence.

“Why, Don, I am glad to see you out again,” exclaimed David, dropping his hammer and hurrying forward to greet his friend.

“Thank you,” replied Don, accepting David’s proffered hand.  “I assure you I am glad to be out again, too.  It’s a fearful bore to be tied up in the house for a whole week, but I was bound to come down here this morning, if I had to come in the carriage, for I have news for you,” added Don, putting his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat.

“Has it come?” asked David, in a voice that trembled with excitement.

“It certainly has.  It was addressed to me, you know, and so Bert opened it.  The man says, he wants fifty dozen live quails immediately, and—­but there it is, read it for yourself.”