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Castlemon, Harry, [pseud.], 1842-1915

"The Boy Trapper"

"A
hundred an' fifty dollars! My circus hoss an' fine gun an' straw hat
an' shiny boots is all up a holler stump, dog-gone my buttons, an'
that thar's jest what's the matter of me. An' what makes it wusser
is, I lost 'em by bein' a fule," added Dan, stamping his bare feet
furiously upon the ground.
Just then a lively, cheerful whistle sounded from the inside of the
cabin where David was busy arranging his purchases. Things were
taking a turn for the better with him now, and he whistled for the
same reason that a bird sings--because he was happy.
"If I could only think up some way to make that thar mean Dave feel
as bad as I do, how quick I'd jump at it! I wish pap was here. He'd
tell me how. He's as jolly as a mud-turtle on a dry log on a sunshiny
day, Dave is, while I---- Whoop!" yelled Dan, jumping up and striking
his heels together in his rage. "Howsomever, I'll have them ten
dollars afore I take a wink of sleep this blessed night----"
Here Dan stopped and looked steadily at the pointer for a few
minutes. Then he slapped his knee with his open hand, thrust both
arms up to the elbows in his pockets and walked up and down the yard,
smiling and shaking his head as if he were thinking about something
that afforded him the greatest satisfaction.


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