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

"The Boy Trapper"


"Well, let it go," said Don, picking up his hammer again. "I've got
the dog back and with that I'll be satisfied. You'll take him home
with you tonight, of course?"
"No, I think not. I am afraid to take him there."
"Then leave him here," said Don, who now began to think that he knew
pretty nearly what had been going on. "He'll be safe with us, and you
can find him when you want him. He isn't broken yet."
"I know it, but I can't do any more for him. I shall have to give you
back your ten dollars."
"I'll not take it. A bargain is a bargain. I want my dog broken, and
you need the money to send off your quails with."
"I know it," said David again; "but I can't shoot any more birds over
him. I have no gun."
"Where is it?"
"At the bottom of the bayou."
The brothers grew more and more astonished the longer they talked
with David, and Don told himself that there had been some queer
doings in the settlement that morning. His interest and curiosity
were thoroughly aroused, but he did not ask any more questions, for
he knew that David could not explain matters without exposing one or
more members of his own family. He turned the conversation into a
new channel by saying suddenly:
"Bert and I made the rounds of the traps this morning, and took out a
hundred and fifty birds.


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