CHAPTER III.
AN OFFER OF PARTNERSHIP.
This was the first time David had ever heard that a son could be heldresponsible for debts contracted by his father. At first he did notbelieve it; but Silas seemed to think it could be done, and he was abusiness man and ought to know what he was talking about. The truthof the matter was, that Silas Jones was a hard one to deal with. Hewanted every cent that was due him and more too, if he could get it.It made no difference how poor his customers were, he always foundmeans to make them pay the bills they contracted at his store. Theeight dollars that Godfrey owed him looked almost as large in hiseyes as it did in David's. He could not bear to lose it, and he didnot care what tricks he resorted to to get it. When he rode away hetook all David's peace of mind with him, "Wasn't it lucky that Ididn't go down to his store and ask him to trust me for a dress formother?" thought the boy; as he picked up his hammer and resumed workupon his trap. "He would have refused me sure. Now there is only oneway I can pay that debt, and that is to ask Don Gordon for the tendollars he promised to give me for breaking his pointer. That'ssomething I don't like, for the money isn't fairly earned yet, but Idon't see what else I can do. Mother must have something to eat, andthe only way I can get it is by making a friend of Silas by payinghim this debt father owes him. I don't care for myself, and as forDan--let him look out for number one. That's what he makes me do."
While David was soliloquising in this way he heard a footstep nearhim, and looking up saw his brother Dan, whose appearance and actionssurprised him not a little. His face wore a smile instead of theusual scowl, he had no coat on, his sleeves were rolled up, and hecarried a frow in one hand (a frow is a sharp instrument used forsplitting out shingles), and a heavy mallet in the other. He reallylooked as if he had made up his mind to go to work, and David couldnot imagine what had happened to put such an idea into his head. Hestopped on the way to speak to the pointer and give him a friendlypat, and that was another thing that surprised his brother. Dan wouldhave acted more like himself if he had given the animal a kick.
"He's up to something," thought David. "He wouldn't act that way ifhe wasn't. I shouldn't wonder if he wants part of that money I amgoing to get from Don Gordon, but he needn't waste his breath inasking for it. Every cent of it goes into mother's hands."
"Halloo, Davy!" said Dan, cheerfully. "I thought mebbe you wouldn'tcare if I should come out and lend you a hand. I hain't got nothingmuch to do this morning."
David made no reply. He was waiting to hear what object his brotherhad in view in offering his assistance, and he knew it would all bemade plain to him in a few minutes.
"You got a heap of traps to build, hain't you?" continued Dan. "Whenbe you goin' to set 'em?"
"I am going to set some of them to-night," was David's reply.
"Fifty dozen is a heap of birds, ain't it?" said Dan.
"How do you happen to know anything about it?" demanded David, whowas greatly astonished.
"I heerd you an' Don talkin' about it."
"Where were you at the time?"
"O, I was around," answered Dan, who did not care to confess that hehad intentionally played the part of eavesdropper.
David was silent, for he wanted to think about it. Here was anotherpiece of ill luck. His experience had taught him that if he wished tomake his enterprise successful, he must keep it from the knowledge ofhis father and Dan. If they found out that he expected to earn somuch money, they would insist on a division of the spoils, and iftheir demand was not complied with, there would be trouble in thecabin. He had no fear of his father now, but here was Dan, who was anunpleasant fellow to have about when he was crossed, and he seemed toknow all about it. There were troublous times ahead; David was sureof that.
"What does that feller up North want with so many quails, anyhow?"asked Dan, as he placed one of the oak blocks upon its end and begansplitting off a shingle with the frow. "He can't eat 'em all byhisself."
"No, he wants to turn them loose and let them run," replied David,with as much good nature as he could assume. "You see they had anawful hard winter up there last year, and the quails were all killedoff."
"Wall, what does the fule want to let 'em go fur, arter he's bought'em?"
"Why, he wants to stock the country. He belongs to a Sportsman's Clubup there. He and his friends will have a law passed keeping folksfrom shooting them for two or three years, and then there'll be justas many birds as there were before."
"Is that the way them rich fellers does?"
"That's what Don says."
"It's mighty nice to be rich, ain't it, Davy; to have all the moneyyou want to spend, a nice hoss to ride, one of them guns what breaksin two in the middle to do your shootin' with, an' shiny boots an' astraw hat to wear to church! I wish me an' pap had found that tharbar'l with the eighty thousand dollars into it. I wouldn't be wearin'no sich clothes as these yere."
"That's all humbug," exclaimed David. "The silver things that oldJordan buried, the spoons, knives and dishes, were all dug up againand are in use now every day. General Gordon never had eightythousand dollars in gold and silver."
"Don't you b'lieve no sich story as that ar," replied Dan, with aknowing shake of his head.
"That's what the Gordons say, anyhow."
"In course they do; an' they say it kase they don't want nobodydiggin' arter that thar bar'l. They wants to find it theirselves. Howmuch be you goin' to get fur these quail, Davy? As much astwenty-five dollars, mebbe thirty, won't you?"
This question showed that Dan didn't know all about the matter, andDavid took courage. "Yes, all of that," he replied.
"More, I reckon mebbe, won't ye?"
"I think so."
"You won't get fifty, will you?" said Dan, opening his eyes.
"I hope I shall."
"Whew!" whistled Dan. He threw down his frow and mallet and seatedhimself on the pile of shingles, with an air which said very plainly,that with such an amount of money in prospect there was no need thatany more work should be done. "That's a fortin, Davy. It's an amazin'lot fur poor folks like us, an' I can't somehow git it through myhead that we're goin' to git so much. But if we do get it, Davy,we'll have some high old times when it comes, me an' you."
"You and me!" exclaimed David.
"Sartin; I want some good clothes an' so do you. 'Twon't be enough toget us a hoss apiece. I _do_ wish I had a circus hoss like DonGordon's, but we kin get some better shootin' irons, me an' you kin,an' mebbe we can git a boat to hunt ducks in, an' some of themfish-poles what breaks all in pieces an' you carry 'em under yourarm. An', Davy, mebbe we'll have a leetle left to get something furthe ole woman."
"For mother! I rather think she'll get something," said David, in atone of voice that made his brother look up in surprise. "She'll getit all, every cent of it."
"Not by no means she won't," exclaimed Dan, striking his open palmwith his clenched hand. "No, sir, not by a long shot. You kin giveher your shar', if you're fule enough to do it, but mine I'll keepfur myself. I'll bet you on that."
"_Your_ share?"
"In course."
"I didn't know that you had any share in this business."
"Whoop!" yelled Dan.
He dashed his hat upon the ground, jumped up and knocked his heelstogether, coming down with his feet spread out and his clenched handshanging by his side, as if he were waiting for an attack from hisbrother.
"No, sir," said David, quietly but firmly, "this is my own business.If you want money, go to work and earn it for yourself. You've gotsix dollars and six bits hidden away somewhere that you never offeredto share with me or mother either."
"I know it, kase it is my own. I worked hard fur it too."
"I don't know how, or when you got it," answered David, who littledreamed that his brother had more ready money than that, and that themost of it rightfully belonged to himself, "and I have never askedyou for any of it. The money I shall receive for these quails will bemine, all mine."
Dan uttered another
wild Indian yell and once more went through theprocess of preparing himself for a fight, leaping high into the air,knocking his heels together, coming down with his feet spread out andhis hands clenched, and when he was fairly settled on the groundagain, he exclaimed:
"Dave, does you want me to wallop you?"
"No, I don't," was the reply; "but if you do you won't keep me fromdoing what I please with my own money."
"But it won't be your own when you get it. I'm older nor you be, an'now that pap's away I'm the man of the house, I want you to know, an'it's the properest thing that I should have the handlin' of all themoney that comes into the family. If you don't go 'have yourself it'slikely you won't tech a cent of them fifty dollars when it comes. Ifyou don't go to crossin' me, I'll give you your shar' an' I'll takemine; an' we'll get some nice things like Don and Bert Gordon hasgot."
"But how does it come that you will have any share in it? That's whatI can't understand."
"Why, I kalkerlate to help you set the traps an' take out the quailwhen they're ketched, an' do a heap of sich hard work."
"I intend to do all that myself, and it isn't work either. It'snothing but fun."
"But I'll have a shar' in it anyhow," said Dan, with a grin, whichshowed that he felt sure of his position, "kase look at the boardsI've split out fur you."
David laughed outright. "How many of them are there?" said he. "Five;and I could have split them out in less than half the time you tookto do it, and made better boards besides. I can't use these at all."
"Dave," said Dan, solemnly, as he picked up the frow and mallet, "Isee you're bound to go agin me."
"No, I am not, and I don't want you to go against me, either."
"Yes, you be. You're goin' to cheat me outen my shar' of them fiftydollars, ain't you now?"
"You will have no share in the money. It will all belong to me, and Ishall give it to mother."
"Then, Dave, not a quail do you ketch in these yere fields so long asyou hold to them idees. Don't you furget it, nuther."
"What do you mean?" asked David, in alarm. "What are you going todo?"
"I don't make no threatenings. I only say you can't ketch no birds solong as you go agin me, an' that's jest what I mean. If you come tome some day an' say, 'I wus wrong, Dannie, an' now I'm goin' to actdecent, like a brother had oughter do,' I'll give you my hand an' dowhat I can to help you. You've got a big job afore you, an' you can'tby no means do it alone. You'd oughter have somebody to help you, an'thar's a heap of hard work in me, the fust thing you know."
"That's so," thought David, running his eyes over his brother'sstalwart figure; "but I guess it will stay there."
"We can make them fifty dollars easy, if we pull together; but youcan't make 'em by yourself, an' you shan't, nuther. You hear me?"
As Dan said this he disappeared around the corner of the cabin,leaving his brother standing silent and thoughtful. He came out againin a few minutes with his rifle on his shoulder, and without sayinganother word to David or even looking toward him, climbed over thefence and went into the woods. When he was out of sight, David satdown on one of his traps and went off into a brown study. He was in abad scrape, that was plain; and the longer he thought about it, thedarker the prospect seemed to grow. He had his choice between twocourses of action: he must either take Dan into partnership, dividethe money with him when it was earned, and permit himself to bebrowbeaten and driven about as if he were little better than a dog;or he must make an enemy of him by asserting his rights. Which of thetwo was the more disagreeable and likely to lead to the mostunpleasant consequences, he could not determine. If Dan were acceptedas a partner, he would insist on handling all the money, and in thatcase Mrs. Evans would probably see not a single cent of it; for Dandid not care who suffered so long as his own wishes were gratified.If he stuck to the resolution he had already formed, and went aheadon his own responsibility, Dan would smash his traps whenever hehappened to find them (he was always roaming about in the woods, andthere was hardly a square rod of ground in the neighborhood that hedid not pass over in the course of a week), and liberate or wring thenecks of the birds that might chance to be in them. He never couldcapture so many quails if Dan was resolved to work against him, andneither could he make his enterprise successful if he allowed him aninterest in it. David did not know what to do.
"I might as well give it up," said he to himself, after a fewminutes' reflection. "I'll go up and tell Don that I can't fill theorder; and while I am about it, I might as well ask him for thatmoney. Perhaps, if I pay father's debt, Silas Jones will give uswhat we need until I can find something to do."
With this thought in his mind, David arose and went into the cabin.He put on the tattered garment he called a coat, exchanged hisdilapidated hat for another that had not seen quite so hard service,and bent his steps toward General Gordon's house. While he washurrying along, thinking about his troubles and the coming interviewwith Don Gordon, and wondering how he could word his request so thathis friend would not feel hard toward him for asking for his moneybefore it had been earned, he was almost ridden down by a horseman,who came galloping furiously along the road, and who was close uponhim before David knew there was any one near.
"Get out of the way, there!" shouted the rider. "Are you blind, thatyou run right under a fellow's horse that way?"
David sprang quickly to one side, and the horseman drew up his nagwith a jerk and looked down at him. It was Lester Brigham, one of theneighborhood boys of whom we have never before had occasion to speak.He was comparatively a new resident in that country. He had beenthere only about a year, but during that time he had made himselfheartily detested by almost all the boys about Rochdale. Of course hehad his cronies--every fellow has; but all the best youngsters, likeDon and Bert Gordon and Fred and Joe Packard, would have little to dowith him. He had lived in the North until the close of the war, andthen his father removed to Mississippi, purchased the plantationadjoining General Gordon's, and began the cultivation of cotton.
Mr. Brigham was said to be the richest man in that county, and Lesterhad more fine things than all the rest of the boys about there puttogether. He took particular pride in his splendid hunting andfishing outfit, and it was coveted by almost every boy who had seenit. He had four guns--all breech-loaders; a beautiful littlefowling-piece for such small game as quails and snipes; a larger onefor ducks and geese; a light squirrel rifle, something like the oneClarence Gordon owned; and a heavier weapon, which he called his deergun, and which carried a ball as large as the end of one's thumb. Hehad two jointed fish-poles--one a light, split bamboo, such as isused in fly-fishing, and the other a stout lancewood, for such heavyfish as black bass and pike.
If there was any faith to be put in the stories he told, Lester was ahunter and fisherman who had few equals. Before he came to the South,it was his custom, he said, to spend a portion of every winter in thewoods in the northern part of Michigan, and many a deer and bear hadfallen to his rifle there. He could catch trout and black bass whereother fellows would not think of looking for them, and as for quails,it was no trouble at all for him to make a double shot and bag boththe birds every time. There were boys in the neighborhood who doubtedthis. Game of all kinds was abundant, and Lester was given everyopportunity to exhibit the skill of which he boasted so loudly, buthe was never in the humor to do it. He seldom went hunting, and whenhe did he always went alone, and no one ever knew how much game hebrought home.
"Your name is Evans, isn't it?" demanded Lester.
David replied that it was.
"Are you the fellow who intends to trap fifty dozen quail in thiscounty, and send them up North?"
"I am," answered David.
"Well, I just rode down here on purpose to tell you that such work asthat will not be allowed."
"Who will not allow it?"
"I will not, for one, and my father for another."
"What have you to say about it?" asked David, who did not like theinsolent tone assumed by the young horseman. "Do the b
irds belong toyou?"
"They are as much mine as they are yours, and if you have a right totrap them and ship them off, I have a right to say that you shan't doit."
"Why not? What harm will it do?"
"It will do just this much harm: it will make the birds scarce abouthere, and there are no more than we want to shoot ourselves. O, youneedn't laugh about it, I mean just what I say; and if you don'tpromise that you will let the quail alone, you will see trouble. I amgoing to get up a Sportsman's Club among the fellows, and then we'llkeep such poachers and pot-hunters as you where you belong. No oneobjects to your shooting the birds over a dog--that's the way toshoot them; but you shan't trap them and send them out of thecountry. Will you promise that you will give up the idea?"
"No, I won't," answered David.
"Then you'll find yourself in the hands of the law, the first thingyou know," exclaimed Lester, angrily. "We won't stand any such work.Don Gordon ought to be ashamed of himself for what he has done. He'sthe meanest----"
"Hold on, there!" interrupted David, with more spirit than he had yetexhibited. "You don't want to say anything hard about Don while I amaround. He's a friend of mine, and I won't hear anybody abuse him.He's the best fellow in the settlement, and so is his brother; andany one who talks against him is just the opposite."
Lester seemed very much astonished at this bold language. He glareddown at David for a moment and then slipping his right hand throughthe loop on the handle of his riding-whip, pulled his feet out of thestirrups and acted as if he were about to dismount. "Do you know whoyou are talking to?" said he.
"Yes, I do," replied David, "and that's just the kind of a fellow Iam."
Lester looked sharply at the ragged youth before him and then put hisfeet back into the stirrups again and settled himself firmly in thesaddle. He felt safer there. "I'll be even with you for that," saidhe. "You shan't catch any quail in these woods this winter. I'llbreak up every trap I find and I'll make the rest of the fellows dothe same."
Lester gave emphasis to his words by shaking his riding-whip atDavid, and then wheeled his horse and rode away.