The former
had gained his point. He had made his brother promise to take Dandy
to his owner and bring back the reward, and that was happiness for
one day. He didn't chop any more wood or take any more interest in
the supper. He seated himself on the bench again and resumed the
agreeable occupation in which he had spent the most of the
afternoon--that of building air-castles.
David walked up and down the floor, with his hands in his pockets,
thinking busily. He told himself over and over again that if it were
not for his mother, he would not care if he should never see his home
again. He was cheerful and happy when he was away from it, but it
almost always happened that as soon as he crossed the threshold
something transpired to make him miserable and gloomy. His
conversation with Dan had confirmed a suspicion that had been lurking
in his mind ever since the pointer disappeared. He had all the while
held to the belief that Dan knew where the dog was, and Dan might as
well have confessed it, for his face and his actions constantly
betrayed him. David believed, too, that his father had not left the
country, as a good many people in the settlement seemed to think, but
that he was hiding in the woods somewhere in the immediate
neighborhood.
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