The Boy Trapper Part 5

"No, sir; but we supposed that his father and brother had authority to ask us for the money."

"You had no right to suppose anything of the kind. You ought to have paid the money into David's own hands, or else satisfied yourselves that he wanted it paid to some one else. Among business men it is customary, in such cases, to send a written order. You must pay David, and this time be sure that he gets the money."

"Whew!" whistled Don, who was very much surprised by this decision.

"That will make a big hole in the money I was saving for Christmas; but David needs it more than I do, and besides it belongs to him.

What shall we do to G.o.dfrey and Dan? They obtained those ten dollars under false pretences, did they not?"

"I don't know whether a lawyer could make a case out of that or not,"

said the General, with a laugh. "I am afraid he couldn't, so you will have to stand the loss. Perhaps you will learn something by it."

"I am quite sure that I have learned something already," replied Don.

"But now about Dan and Lester. How are we going to keep them from interfering with David?"

"Why, it seems to me that I could hide my traps where they would never think of looking for them, and where I would be sure to catch quails, too. If I thought I couldn't, I would set them all on this plantation, and any one who troubled them would render himself liable for trespa.s.s."

"Aha!" exclaimed Don, who caught the idea at once.

"But, in order to throw Dan off the scent entirely, you might have David come up to our shop every day and build his traps there. He will find all the tools he wants, and those s.h.i.+ngles we tore off that old corn-crib will answer his purpose better than new ones, because they are old and weather-beaten, and look just like the wood in the forest. When I was a boy, I never had any luck in catching birds in bright new traps. When the birds are caught, he can put them into one of those unoccupied negro cabins and lock them up until he is ready to send them off."

"That's the very idea!" cried Don, gleefully. "We knew that if there was any way out of the difficulty, you would be sure to see it."

The General bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, and the brothers turned their horses about and rode away. When they reached the barn Don was willing to confess that he was very tired. Riding on horseback is hard work for one who is stiff in every joint and lame all over; but Don could not think of going into the house and taking a rest. He had been a close prisoner there for a whole week, and now that he had taken a breath of fresh air and stirred his sluggish blood with a little exhilarating exercise, he could not bear to go back to his sofa again. He proposed that they should leave their ponies at the barn and go up to David's in the canoe. They would take their guns with them, he said, and after they had paid David his money, they would row a short distance up the bayou, and perhaps they might be fortunate enough to knock over a duck or two for the next day's dinner.

Bert, of course, agreed to the proposition, and went into the shop after the oars belonging to the canoe, while Don went into the house again after the guns. When he came out again he had a breech-loader on each shoulder and David's ten dollars in his pocket. Paying that bill twice did make a big hole in his Christmas money, for it took just half of it.

The brothers walked along the garden path that ran toward the lake, and when Don, who was leading the way, stepped upon the jetty he missed something at once. The canoe was gone. They had not been near the jetty for a week, and the last time they were there the boat was all right. It could not have got away without help, for it was firmly tied to a ring in the jetty by the chain, which served as a painter, and even if that had become loosened the canoe would have remained near its moorings, for there was no current in the lake to carry it from the sh.o.r.e. Beyond a doubt, it had been stolen. Don would not have felt the loss more keenly if the thief had taken his fine sail-boat. The canoe was almost as old as he was, and in it he and Bert had taken their first ride on the lake and captured their first wounded duck.

"It's gone," said Don, after he and Bert had looked all around the lake as far as their eyes could reach, "and that's all there is of it. But we'll not give up our trip. We'll go in the sail-boat."

The sail-boat had been dismantled, and the masts, sails, rudder and everything else belonging to her had been stored in the shop under cover. While Bert was gone after the oars, Don drew the boat up to the jetty, and having stowed the guns away in the stow-sheets, he got in himself and took another survey of the lake to make sure that the canoe was nowhere in sight. It was hard to give it up as lost.

Bert came back in a few minutes, and having s.h.i.+pped the oars shoved off and pulled down the lake. A quarter of an hour afterward they landed on the beach in front of G.o.dfrey's cabin. They found David wandering listlessly about in the back yard with his hands in his pockets; and when he came up to the fence in response to their call, they saw that he had been crying again.

"David," exclaimed Don, putting his hand into his pocket, "we've got news for you that will make you wear a different looking face when you hear it. After you went home, we rode down to see father, and he told us--Eh!" cried Don, turning quickly toward his brother, who just then gave his arm a sly pinch.

"Let me tell it," said Bert. "We'd like to see you at our house this evening about five o'clock; can you come?"

"I reckon I can," answered David. "Was that the good news you wanted to tell me?"

"No--I believe--yes, it was," said Don, who received another fearful pinch on the arm and saw his brother looking at him in a very significant way. "You come up, anyhow."

"We've got some work for you to do up there," said Bert. "It will not pay you much at first, but perhaps you can make something out of it by-and-by. It will keep you busy for two or three weeks, perhaps longer. Will you come?"

David replied that he would, and turned away with an expression of surprise and disappointment on his face. The eager, almost excited manner in which Don greeted him, led him to hope that he had something very pleasant and encouraging to tell, and somehow he couldn't help thinking that his visitors had not said just what they intended to say when they first came up to the fence.

"What in the name of sense and Tom Walker was the matter with you, Bert?" demanded Don, as soon as the two were out of David's hearing.

"My arm is all black and blue, I know!"

"I didn't want you to say too much," was Bert's reply, "and I didn't know any other way to stop your talking. There was a listener close by."

"A listener! Who was it?"

"David's brother. Just as you began speaking I happened to look toward the cabin, and saw through the cracks between the logs that the window on the other side was open. Close to one of those cracks, and directly in line with the window, was a head. I knew it was Dan's head the moment I saw it."

"Aha!" exclaimed Don. "He had his trouble for his pains this time, hadn't he? Or, rather, he had the trouble and I had the pain," he added, rubbing his arm.

Bert laughed and said he thought that was about the way the matter stood.

CHAPTER V.

DAN IS ASTONISHED.

Many times during his life had David had good reason to be discouraged, but he had never been so strongly tempted to give up trying altogether and settle down into a professional vagabond, as he was when he left General Gordon's barn and turned his face toward home. He had relied upon Don to show him a way out of his trouble, but his friend had not helped him at all; he had only made matters worse by telling him more bad news. Nothing seemed to go right with him. There was Dan, who never did anything, and yet he was better off in the world and seemed to be just as happy as David, who was always striving to better his condition and continually on the lookout for a chance to earn a dollar or two. Why should he not stop work and let things take their own course, as his brother did? He reached home while he was revolving this question in his mind, and the first person he saw when he climbed the fence and walked toward the s.h.i.+ngle-pile to resume work upon his traps, was his brother Dan.

"Whar you been an' what you been a doin' of?" demanded the latter, as if he had a right to know.

"I've been over to Don's house," answered David; "and while I was there I found out that you and father borrowed my ten dollars."

"'Tain't so nuther," cried Dan, trying to look surprised and indignant.

"I believe everything Don and Bert tell me. They have never lied to me and you have."

"Whoop!" yelled Dan, jumping up and knocking his heels together.

"I mean every word of it," said David, firmly. "You have got me into a tight sc.r.a.pe, but I'll work out of it somehow. And let me tell you one thing, Dan; you'll never have a chance to steal any more of my money."

"Then why don't you divide it like a feller had oughter do?" asked Dan, angrily.

"Why don't you divide with mother and me when you have some?"

"Kase I work hard for it an' it b'longs to me; that's why." And knowing by his past experience that he could not hold his own in an argument with his brother, Dan turned about and went into the house.

David worked faithfully at his traps, paying no further heed to his brother's movements. He tried to keep his mind on what he was doing, but now and then the recollection of the heavy loss he had sustained would come back to him with overwhelming force and the tears would start to his eyes in spite of all he could do to prevent it. Then he would throw down his hammer and wander about with his hands in his pockets, wondering what was the use of trying to do anything or be anybody while things were working so strongly against him.

It was during one of these idle periods that Don and Bert came up.

David's hopes arose immediately when he caught sight of Don's smiling face, for he was sure that he was about to hear something encouraging. Indeed, Don's first words confirmed this impression; but it turned out that they had come there simply to offer him work that would keep him busy for two or three weeks. Of course David wanted work, but just then he wanted money more. He wanted to pay that grocery bill, so that he could look Silas Jones in the face the next time he met him.

When the brothers got into their boat and rowed away, David went back to his traps, while Dan, who had been disappointed in his hopes of hearing some private conversation between the visitors and his brother, shouldered his rifle and disappeared in the woods.

David worked away industriously until the sun told him that it was nearly four o'clock, and then he put on his coat and started off to keep his appointment with Don and Bert. He found them waiting for him at the General's barn, and he was not a little surprised when they seized him by the arms and pulled him into the carpenter-shop, the door of which they were careful to close and lock behind them.

"Now I know we can talk without danger of being overheard," exclaimed Don. "We've got lots to tell you; but in the first place," he added, opening his pocket-book, "there's your money."

The expression of joy and surprise that came upon David's face as he hesitatingly, almost reluctantly, took the crisp, new bill that was held toward him, amply repaid Don for the loss of the pleasure he had expected to derive in spending the money for Christmas presents.