“That’s what we’ve been telling Davy here,” quoth Wild Bill. “The winter’s no time for him to be on the plains, anyway. He’d better be going to school till things open up in the spring. Do you reckon he could get a place hereabouts where he could work for his keep while he went to school? ’Tisn’t a right place for a boy in Leavenworth.”
“Why,” mused Mrs. Cody, flushing, “we’ve always got room for Davy or any friend of Billy’s or yours, Mr. Hickok. Of course, there isn’t much work for an extra hand. You see, when Billy left he hired a man to tend to the farm. But if Davy’ll stay he’s welcome.”
“Oh, Davy’ll stay!” cried the girls, dancing gaily; and Turk barked. “You will stay, won’t you, Davy? We’ll have lots of fun.”
But Davy promptly shook his head.
“I think you’ve got enough,” he said. Mrs. Cody did not look at all strong, and the girls were little. “I guess I’d rather find a place where I can work enough to pay for my keep.”
“Well,” resumed Mrs. Cody, “maybe you would feel more independent, Davy, although you’re welcome to stay right here as long as you like. But there’s a new family on a claim about a mile and a half over yonder. The man’s sick and his wife’s doing too much work. I expect they’d be glad of somebody to tend to the chores. You might go over and see.”
“Come ahead, Davy,” bade Bill.
“You’ll be back and have supper with us and stay all night, won’t you?” invited Mrs. Cody, quickly.
“We’ll get Dave settled first, thank you, Mother Cody,” called back Bill. “Then we’ll be mighty glad to stop off if we come this way.”
“Goodby, Dave,” called the girls. “There’s a splendid school started. We’re all going.”