"What business you got up here, an' how come you by that pinter pup?"
demanded Godfrey.
"My business up here was to get the dog. I found him in your camp,
and I cut him loose because I have a better right to him than you
have."
"Wal, we'll see 'bout that thar," returned Godfrey, throwing down his
squirrel and leaning his rifle against the nearest tree. David's face
grew pale, for he knew what was coming now. His father's next move
would be to reach for a hickory.
"Who told you I was up here?" demanded Godfrey, and David's
uneasiness increased when he saw that his father was running his eyes
over the bushes nearest him. He was picking out a good stout switch.
"No one told me," answered David.
"Then how did you know whar I was?"
"I was up here with Don and Bert on the day you swam the bayou, and I
saw you just after you had climbed the bank and were dodging into the
bushes."
"Don't you think you was a very grateful an' dutiful' son to hunt
your poor ole pap outen a good hidin'-place an' make him take to the
water like a hounded deer, in this cold weather too, an' my rheumatiz
so bad?" asked Godfrey, angrily. "Who told you the pinter was here?"
"Nobody. I just guessed at it.
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