CHAPTER IV.
MORE BAD NEWS.
David's feelings, as he stood there in the road, gazing after theretreating horseman, were by no means of the most pleasant nature. Hewas naturally a cheerful, light-hearted boy, and he would not look onthe dark side of things if he could help it. But he couldn't help itnow. Here was more trouble. If he had been disposed to give up indespair when he found that his brother was working against him, hehad more reason to be discouraged when he learned that a new enemyhad suddenly appeared, and from a most unexpected quarter, too. Thatwas the way he looked at the matter at first; but after a littlereflection, he felt more like defying Dan and Lester both. Whatbusiness had either of them to interfere with his arrangements, andsay that he should not earn an honest dollar to give his mother, ifhe could? None whatever, and he would succeed in spite of them.He would get that grocery bill off his hands the first thing, andwhen he was square with the world, he would go to work in earnest andoutwit all his foes, no matter how numerous or how smart they mightbe. He would tell Don all about it and be governed by his advice.
Having come to this determination, David once more, turned his facetoward the General's house. A few minutes' rapid walking brought himto the barn and there he found the boy he wanted to see. The brothershad just returned from a short ride--Don was not yet strong enough tostand his usual amount of exercise--and having turned the ponies overto the hostler, were on the point of starting for the house, whenDavid came in.
"Halloo, Dave!" exclaimed Don, who was always the first to greet him."Traps all built?"
"Not yet," answered David, trying to look as cheerful as usual.
"You have plenty of nails and timber, I suppose. If not come straightto us. It will never do to let this thing fall through for want of alittle capital to go on," said Don, who was as much interested inDavid's success as though he expected to share in the profits of theenterprise.
"I have everything I want in the way of nails and boards," repliedDavid, "but I--you know--may I see you just a minute, Don?"
"Of course you may, or two or three minutes if you wish. Come on,Bert. I have no secrets from my brother, _now_," said Don with alaugh. "I kept one thing secret from him and got myself into troubleby it. If I had told him of it perhaps he would have made me behavemyself. Now what is it?" he added, when the three had drawn up in onecorner of the barn, out of earshot of the hostler.
David was silent. He had made up his mind just what he wanted to sayto Don, but Lester Brigham's sudden appearance and the threats he hadmade had scattered all his ideas, and he could not utter a word.
"Speak up," said Bert encouragingly. "You need not hesitate to talkfreely to us. But what's the matter with you? You look as though youwere troubled about something."
"I am troubled about a good many things," said David, speaking nowafter a desperate effort. "In the first place, there are two fellowshere who say I shan't trap any birds."
"Who are they?" demanded Don, surprised and indignant.
"My brother Dan is one of them."
"Whew!" whistled Don, opening his eyes and looking at Bert.
"I didn't want him to know anything about it," continued David, "forI was certain that he would make me trouble; but he found it out bylistening while I was talking about it, and wanted to join in withme. I told him I didn't want him, and he said I shouldn't catch anybirds."
"Did he say what he would do to prevent it?" asked Bert.
"O, it's easy enough to tell what he will do," exclaimed Don. "He'llsteal or break the traps and kill the quails. There are plenty ofways in which he can trouble us, if he makes up his mind to it."
"Who is the other?" asked Bert.
"Lester Brigham."
Don whistled again, and then looked angry.
"When did you see him, and what did he have to say about it?" heasked. "Has he any reason to hold a grudge against you?"
"I didn't know that he had until I met him in the road this morning.He says he won't have me trapping quails and sending them off North,because it will make them scarce here. He says he is going to get upa Sportsman's Club among the fellows, and then he will keeppot-hunters like me where we belong."
"Oho!" exclaimed Bert. "It seems to me that he is taking a good dealupon himself."
"That is what he has done ever since he has been here, and that's whythere are so many boys in the settlement who don't like him," saidDon. "But he mustn't meddle with this business. He can't come downhere into a country that is almost a wilderness and manage matters asthey do up North. Father told me the other day that in some statesthey have laws to protect game, and it is right that they shouldhave, for there are so many hunters that if they were not restrainedthey would kill all the birds and animals in a single season. Themost of the hunters live in the city, and when they get out withtheir guns they crack away at everything they see; and if they happento kill a doe with a fawn at her side, or a quail with a brood ofchicks, it makes no difference to them. Sportsman's Clubs are of some_use_ there, but we have no need of them in this country."
"He wants the quails left here, so that he can shoot them over hisdog," continued David.
"O, he does! When is he going to begin? He has been here more than ayear, and nobody has ever heard of his killing a quail yet. He mustkeep his fingers out of this pie. We can't put up with anyinterference from him. Any more bad news?" added Don, seeing thatDavid's face had not yet wholly cleared up.
"Yes, there is," replied the latter, speaking rapidly, for fear thathis courage might desert him again. "Just after you left me thismorning, Silas Jones rode up and dunned me for eight dollars thatfather owes him."
"Why, you have nothing to do with that," said Bert.
"Nothing whatever," chimed in Don. "You tell Mr. Jones that if hewants his money he had better hunt up your father and ask him for it.You don't owe him anything, do you?"
"No, but he says that if I don't settle that bill, he'll never let mehave a thing at his store again unless I have the money in my hand topay for it. I haven't a cent of my own, and I thought if you couldlet me have the ten dollars you promised me for breaking the pointer,I should be much obliged to you."
"If I would do what?" asked Don, in amazement.
"Why, David," said Bert, "the money was all paid to you in less thantwenty-four hours after the dog was placed in your keeping."
"Paid to me?" gasped David.
"Well, no, not to you, but to your order."
"To my order!" repeated the boy, who began to think he was dreaming.
"Yes, to your order," said Don. "We left the pointer in your hands atnoon, while you were at dinner. In less than an hour afterward, Dancame over and said that you wanted five dollars to buy a dress foryour mother, and Bert gave him the money. The next forenoon yourfather met me at the landing and told me you wanted the other five tobuy some medicine for your mother, who was ill with the ague, and Igave it to him, and I just know I made a mess of it," added Don,bringing his hands together with a loud slap.
It was plain from the looks of David's face that he had. The boylistened with eyes wide open, his under jaw dropping down and hisface growing pale, as the duplicity of which his father and brotherhad been guilty was gradually made plain to him, and when at last hismind grasped the full import of Don's words, he covered his face withhis hands and cried aloud. Don and Bert looked at him in surprise,and then turned and looked at each other. They who had never wantedfor the necessities, and who had never but once, and that was duringthe war, lacked the luxuries of life, could not understand why hisgrief should be so overwhelming; but they could understand that theyhad been deceived, and even the gentle-spirited Bert was indignantover it. The impulsive Don could scarcely restrain himself. He walkedangrily up and down the floor, thrashing his boots with hisriding-whip and cracking it in the air so viciously that the poniesdanced about in their stalls.
"Dave," said Bert, at length, "are we to understand that your fatherand brother came to us and got that money without any authority from
you?"
"That's just what they did," sobbed David.
"And you never saw a cent of it?"
"Not one cent, or mother either."
"Well, what of it?" exclaimed Don. "Brace up and be a man, Dave. Aten-dollar bill is not an everlasting fortune."
"I know it isn't much to you, but it is a good deal to me. You don'tknow what the loss of it means. It means corn-bread and butter-milkfor breakfast, dinner and supper."
"Well, what of that?" said Don, again. "I have eaten more than onedinner at the Gayoso House, in Memphis--and it is one of the besthotels in the country--when corn-bread and butter-milk were down inthe bill of fare as part of the dessert."
"Well, if all the folks who stop at that hotel had to live on it, aswe do, they would call for something else," replied David. "How am Ito settle Silas Jones's bill, I'd like to know?"
"Never mind Silas Jones's bill. If he says anything more to you aboutit, tell him that you don't owe him a cent."
"And how am I to send my quails away? That man said the charges mustbe paid."
"Ah! that's a more serious matter," said Don, placing his hands onhis hips, and looking down at the floor.
"It is all serious to me," said David, brushing the tears from hiseyes, "but I'll work through somehow. I'll go home now and thinkabout it, and if I don't earn that money in spite of all my bad luck,it will not be because I don't try."
"That's the way to talk," said Don, giving David an encouraging slapon the back. "That's the sort of spirit I like. Bert and I will seeyou again, perhaps this afternoon. In the meantime we'll talk thematter over, and if we three fellows are not smart enough to beat thetwo who are opposing us, we'll know the reason why."
David hurried out of the barn, in order to hide his tears, whichevery instant threatened to break forth afresh, and Don, turning tothe hostler, ordered him to put the saddles on the ponies again."Father is down in the field," said he, to his brother, "and it maybe two or three hours before he will come to the house. I can't waitso long, so we'll ride down there and talk the matter over with him.He hasn't forgotten that he was a boy once himself, and he will tellus just what we ought to do."
The ponies were led out again in a few minutes, and Bert, havingassisted his brother into the saddle, mounted his own nag, and thetwo rode down the lane toward the field. Of course they could talkabout only one thing, and that was the ill-luck that seemed to meettheir friend David at every turn. The longer Bert thought and talkedof the trick that had been played upon himself and his brother, themore indignant he became; while Don, having had time to recover alittle of his usual good nature, was more disposed to laugh over it.He declared that it was the sharpest piece of business he had everheard of, and wondered greatly that Godfrey and Dan, whom he hadalways believed to be as stupid as so many blocks, should havesuddenly exhibited so much shrewdness. Bert declared that it was awicked swindle; and the earnestness with which he denounced the wholeproceeding made Don laugh louder than ever. Of course the latter didnot forget that the trick which so highly amused him, had been themeans of placing David in a very unpleasant situation, but still hedid not think much about that, for he believed that his father wouldbe able to make some suggestions, which, if acted upon, wouldstraighten things out in short order.
"Well, Don, how does it seem, to find yourself in the saddle again?You appear to enjoy the exercise, but Bert doesn't. He looks asthough he had lost his last friend."
This was the way General Gordon greeted his boys, when they rode upbeside the stump on which he was seated, superintending the negroeswho were at work in the field. Bert brightened up at once, butreplied that he thought he had good cause to look down-hearted, andwith this introduction he went on and told David's story just as thelatter had told it to him and his brother. The General listenedgood-naturedly, as he always did to anything his boys had to tellhim, and when Bert ceased speaking, he pulled off a piece of thestump and began to whittle it with his knife. The boys waited for himto say something, but as he did not, Bert continued:
"We came down here to ask you what we ought to do about it, and wewant particularly to know your opinion concerning the trick Dan andhis father played on us."
"That is easily given," replied the General. "My opinion is thatMaster Don is just ten dollars out of pocket."
"You don't mean that I must pay it over again?" exclaimed Don.
"No, I don't mean that, because you haven't paid it at all."
"Why, father, I----"
"I understand. Dan made a demand upon Bert, and Bert borrowed fivedollars of his mother and gave it to him. Godfrey came to you for theother five, and you gave it to him. David has not yet been paid forbreaking the pointer."
"No, sir; but we supposed that his father and brother had authorityto ask us for the money."
"You had no right to suppose anything of the kind. You ought to havepaid the money into David's own hands, or else satisfied yourselvesthat he wanted it paid to some one else. Among business men it iscustomary, in such cases, to send a written order. You must payDavid, 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 Godfrey and Dan? They obtained those ten dollarsunder 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 willhave 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 frominterfering with David?"
"Why, it seems to me that I could hide my traps where they wouldnever think of looking for them, and where I would be sure to catchquails, too. If I thought I couldn't, I would set them all on thisplantation, and any one who troubled them would render himself liablefor trespass."
"Aha!" exclaimed Don, who caught the idea at once.
"But, in order to throw Dan off the scent entirely, you might haveDavid come up to our shop every day and build his traps there. Hewill find all the tools he wants, and those shingles we tore off thatold corn-crib will answer his purpose better than new ones, becausethey are old and weather-beaten, and look just like the wood in theforest. When I was a boy, I never had any luck in catching birds inbright new traps. When the birds are caught, he can put them into oneof those unoccupied negro cabins and lock them up until he is readyto send them off."
"That's the very idea!" cried Don, gleefully. "We knew that if therewas any way out of the difficulty, you would be sure to see it."
The General bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, and thebrothers turned their horses about and rode away. When they reachedthe barn Don was willing to confess that he was very tired. Riding onhorseback is hard work for one who is stiff in every joint and lameall over; but Don could not think of going into the house and takinga rest. He had been a close prisoner there for a whole week, and nowthat he had taken a breath of fresh air and stirred his sluggishblood with a little exhilarating exercise, he could not bear to goback to his sofa again. He proposed that they should leave theirponies at the barn and go up to David's in the canoe. They would taketheir guns with them, he said, and after they had paid David hismoney, they would row a short distance up the bayou, and perhaps theymight be fortunate enough to knock over a duck or two for the nextday's dinner.
Bert, of course, agreed to the proposition, and went into the shopafter the oars belonging to the canoe, while Don went into the houseagain after the guns. When he came out again he had a breech-loaderon each shoulder and David's ten dollars in his pocket. Paying thatbill twice did make a big hole in his Christmas money, for it tookjust 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 hemissed something at once. The canoe was
gone. They had not been nearthe jetty for a week, and the last time they were there the boat wasall right. It could not have got away without help, for it was firmlytied 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 remainednear its moorings, for there was no current in the lake to carry itfrom the shore. Beyond a doubt, it had been stolen. Don would nothave felt the loss more keenly if the thief had taken his finesail-boat. The canoe was almost as old as he was, and in it he andBert had taken their first ride on the lake and captured their firstwounded duck.
"It's gone," said Don, after he and Bert had looked all around thelake as far as their eyes could reach, "and that's all there is ofit. 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 andeverything else belonging to her had been stored in the shop undercover. While Bert was gone after the oars, Don drew the boat up tothe jetty, and having stowed the guns away in the stow-sheets, he gotin himself and took another survey of the lake to make sure that thecanoe was nowhere in sight. It was hard to give it up as lost.
Bert came back in a few minutes, and having shipped the oars shovedoff and pulled down the lake. A quarter of an hour afterward theylanded on the beach in front of Godfrey's cabin. They found Davidwandering listlessly about in the back yard with his hands in hispockets; 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 gotnews for you that will make you wear a different looking face whenyou hear it. After you went home, we rode down to see father, and hetold us--Eh!" cried Don, turning quickly toward his brother, who justthen gave his arm a sly pinch.
"Let me tell it," said Bert. "We'd like to see you at our house thisevening about five o'clock; can you come?"
"I reckon I can," answered David. "Was that the good news you wantedto tell me?"
"No--I believe--yes, it was," said Don, who received another fearfulpinch on the arm and saw his brother looking at him in a verysignificant way. "You come up, anyhow."
"We've got some work for you to do up there," said Bert. "It will notpay you much at first, but perhaps you can make something out of itby-and-by. It will keep you busy for two or three weeks, perhapslonger. Will you come?"
David replied that he would, and turned away with an expression ofsurprise and disappointment on his face. The eager, almost excitedmanner in which Don greeted him, led him to hope that he hadsomething very pleasant and encouraging to tell, and somehow hecouldn't help thinking that his visitors had not said just what theyintended 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'tknow any other way to stop your talking. There was a listener closeby."
"A listener! Who was it?"
"David's brother. Just as you began speaking I happened to looktoward the cabin, and saw through the cracks between the logs thatthe 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'shead 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," headded, rubbing his arm.
Bert laughed and said he thought that was about the way the matterstood.