"Here's Dave a toilin' an' a
slavin' fur them hundred an' fifty dollars, an' when he gets 'em,
they'll go plump into pap's pocket an' mine, an' he'll never see no
good of 'em at all. I'll have ten dollars in my pocket this very
night. It's 'most too frosty to go slashin' round through the bushes
now, so I'll wait till the sun gets a little higher, then I'll go
arter that pinter."
David kept on down the road, until he was out of sight of the cabin,
and then he climbed the fence and plunged into a dense thicket of
briers, through which he made his way with great difficulty,
following nearly the same path that Clarence Gordon followed on the
morning he went through there to release his cousin Don from the
potato-cellar. Reaching the woods at last, he took a straight course
for Bruin's Island, and half an hour's rapid walking brought him
within sight of it.
David's first care was to satisfy himself that it was a man and not a
bear that Don's hounds had driven off the island; and in order to set
all his doubts on this point at rest, he looked for the footprints
which the man or animal must have made when he left the water and
climbed the bank. David found the tracks after a few minutes' search,
and a single glance at them confirmed his suspicions.
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