“Sartin; I want some good clothes an' so do you. 'Twon't be enough to get us a hoss apiece. I do wish I had a circus hoss like Don Gordon's, but we kin get some better shootin' irons, me an' you kin, an' mebbe we can git a boat to hunt ducks in, an' some of them fish-poles what breaks all in pieces an' you carry 'em under your arm. An', Davy, mebbe we'll have a leetle left to get something fur the ole woman.”
“For mother! I rather think she'll get something,” said David, in a tone of voice that made his brother look up in surprise. “She'll get it all, every cent of it.”
“Not by no means she won't,” exclaimed Dan, striking his open palm with his clenched hand. “No, sir, not by a long shot. You kin give her your shar', if you're fule enough to do it, but mine I'll keep fur myself. I'll bet you on that.”
“Your share?”
“In course.”
“I didn't know that you had any share in this business.”
“Whoop!” yelled Dan.
He dashed his hat upon the ground, jumped up and knocked his heels together, coming down with his feet spread out and his clenched hands hanging by his side, as if he were waiting for an attack from his brother.
“No, sir,” said David, quietly but firmly, “this is my own business. If you want money, go to work and earn it for yourself. You've got six dollars and six bits hidden away somewhere that you never offered to share with me or mother either.”
“I know it, kase it is my own. I worked hard fur it too.”