“I've a notion to come here an' live with you, pap,” said Dan.
“'Twon't be safe,” replied his father, quickly. “If you're missin' from home folks might begin to hunt fur us, an' that's somethin' I don't want 'em to do. 'Sides you must stay in the settlement an' help me. I shall need things from the store now an' then, an' as I can't go and git 'em myself, you'll have to git 'em fur me. But what was you sayin' about Dave?” asked Godfrey, throwing himself down on one of the piles of cane and motioning to Dan to occupy the block of wood.
“I was a sayin' that he's a little the meanest feller I ever seed,” replied Dan, “an' don't you say so too, pap? Kase why, he's goin' to git fifty dollars fur them quail, an' he's goin' to give the money all to the ole woman.”
“An' leave me to freeze an' starve out here in the cane?” exclaimed Godfrey, with a great show of indignation. “Not by no means he won't. If he don't mind what he's about we'll take the hul on it, Dan, me an' you will.”
“He won't get none on it, you kin bet high on that,” said Dan. “I told him I was goin' agin him, an' so I am. I'll bust his traps as fast as I kin find 'em, an' I won't do nothin' but hunt fur 'em, day an' night.”
“Now, haint you got no sense at all?” cried his father, so fiercely that Dan jumped up and turned his face toward the path, as if he were on the point of taking to his heels.
“Wal, I wanted to go pardners with him an' he wouldn't le' me,” protested Dan.
“What's the odds? Set down thar an' listen while somebody what knows somethin' talks to you. What odds does it make to you if he won't go pardners with you?”
“Kase I want some of the money; that's the odds it makes to me.”
“Wal, you kin have it, an' you needn't do no work, nuther. I'm Dave's pap an' your'n too, an' knows what's best fur all of us. You jest keep still an' let Dave go on an' ketch the birds; an' when he's ketched 'em an' got the money in his pocket, then I'll tell you what else to do. Le' me see: fifty dozen birds at three dollars a dozen! That's—that's jest——”