"It will be cold out there in
the swamp pretty soon. I 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.
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