Don
and Bert paid daily visits to their bear trap, hunted wild turkeys
and drove the ridges for deer, while David stayed at home and made
himself useful there, until he began to think it time to hear from
somebody, and then he took to hanging about the post-office as
persistently as ever his father had done. Finally, his anxiety was
relieved by the arrival of the first letter that had ever been
addressed to himself. He tore it open with eager hands, and read
that the quails had been received in good order, and that the money,
amounting to one hundred and ninety-two dollars and fifty cents, had
been paid over to the agent from whom they were received. David could
hardly believe it. The man had paid him for the extra five dozen
birds; he was to receive forty-two dollars more than he expected;
and there had been no freight charges deducted. David could not
understand that, and there was no one of whom he could ask an
explanation, for Don and Bert had gone over to Coldwater that
morning, and were not to be back for a week. He had a long talk with
his mother about it that night, and when he went to bed never closed
his eyes in slumber. Every succeeding day found him at the landing
waiting for his money, and so little did he know about business that
he could not imagine who was to give it to him.
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