The Boy Trapper | Page 8

forwarded, charges paid, to the address at the bottom of the

letter.
"Cod," repeated David, whose opportunities for learning how business
was transacted had been very limited, "does he mean codfish?" Don
and Bert laughed heartily.
"No," said the former, as soon as he could speak. "C. O. D. means
'collect on delivery.'"
"O," said David, in a tone of voice which showed that he did not yet
fully understand.
"It is nothing to be ashamed of," said Bert; "we didn't know what the
letters meant until father told us."
"That's so," said Don; "how is a fellow to know a thing he has never
had a chance to learn? Now when the birds are caught, you put so many
of them in a box and on each box you mark the value of its contents.
You send a notice of shipment to the man, and he will know when to
look for the birds. When they arrive he pays the amount of your bill to
the express agent, and the agent forwards it to you. You run no risk
whatever, for the man can't get the quails until your bill is paid."
"Now I'll tell you what we'll do," said Bert, who saw by the expression
on David's face that his brother had not made matters much clearer by
his explanation, "you go to work and catch the quails, and when you
have made up the required number, we'll help you ship them off."
"That's the idea," said Don. "We'll do anything we can for you."
"Thank you," answered David, who felt as if a tremendous
responsibility had been removed from his shoulders.
"I'll write to the man to-day, informing him that you will go to work at
once," added Don. "I don't suppose you could tell, even within a week
or two, of the time it will take you to fill the order, could you?"
"I shouldn't like to make a guess," said David. "The birds rove around

so that a fellow can't tell anything about them. They are plenty now, but
next week there may not be half a dozen flocks to be found."
"Then I will write to him that the best you can say is, that you will lose
no time. How does the pointer come on?"
"Finely," said David. "He works better than half the old dogs now. He's
smart, I tell you."
"He takes after his owner, you see. I hope to get firmly on my feet next
week, and if I do, I want to try him. Good-by."
"Now, there are two friends worth having," thought David, gazing
almost lovingly after the brothers, as they rode away. "I don't wonder
that everybody likes them. A hundred and fifty dollars! Whew! won't
mother have some nice, warm clothes this winter, and won't she have
everything else she wants, too?"
The boy did not see how he could possibly keep his good fortune to
himself until his mother came home that night. His first impulse was to
go over to the neighbor's house, and tell her all about it, but he was
restrained by the thought that that would be a waste of time. He could
make one trap in the hour and a half that it would take him to go and
return, and the sooner his traps were all completed, the sooner he could
get to work. His next thought was that he would let the traps rest for
that day, go down to the landing, purchase some nice present for his
mother and surprise her with it when she came home. Of course he had
no money to pay for it, but what did that matter? Silas Jones was
always willing to trust anybody whom he knew to be reliable, and
when he learned that his customer would have a hundred and fifty
dollars of his own in a few weeks, he would surely let him have a warm
dress or a pair of shoes. When his money came he would get his mother
something fine to wear to church; and, while he was about it, wouldn't
it be a good plan for him to send to Memphis for a nice hunting outfit
and a few dozen steel traps? Like his father, when he first thought of
the barrel with the eighty thousand dollars in it, David looked upon
himself as rich already; and if he had attempted to carry out all the
grand ideas that were continually suggesting themselves to him, it was

probable that his hundred and fifty dollars would be gone before he had
earned them.
"Halloo, there!" shouted a voice.
David looked up and saw another horseman standing beside the
fence--Silas Jones, who kept the store at the landing, and the very man
of whom he had been thinking but