The Boy Trapper | Page 7

saw a flock of wild geese in the lake this morning,
and that is a sure sign that winter is close at hand. Father had no coat on
when he went away, and he was barefooted, too. And as for our living,
mother, who's kept you in clothes and coffee, sugar and tea, for the last

year?"
"You have, David. I don't know what I should do without you. You are
a great comfort to me."
"And I'm never going to be anything else, mother. I never made you cry,
did I? I ain't going to, either. I can take care of you, and I will, too. If I
can't get work to do, I can hunt and trap small game, you know; and if I
only had a rifle, I am sure I could kill at least one deer every week.
That, reckoning venison worth six cents a pound, would bring us in
about thirty dollars a month. Who says we couldn't live and save
money on that?"
"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."
Don produced the letter, and David took it with a very unsteady hand.
A hundred and fifty dollars was a fortune in his eyes, a larger one too
than he had hoped to earn for some years to come. He opened the letter
and one glance at it showed him that the money was his, if he could
only capture the required number of birds. They were to be trapped at
once, the sooner the better, put into boxes, which were to be marked C.
O. D. and