“Halloo, Davy!” exclaimed Dan, cheerfully. “I thought mebbe you'd be cold when you come hum, so I built up a fire to warm you. Jest look at them thar squirrels, will you? Every one on 'em was shot through the head. Can you beat that?”
“No,” answered David. “It can't be beaten.”
“If we had a few quail now, we'd have a bully supper, wouldn't we?” continued Dan. “You don't seem to shoot no more quail lately, do you, Davy?”
“O, I can't hunt them without a dog to tell me where they are.”
“Hain't you never heard nothin' from that pinter pup at all?”
“Not a word.”
“I'm sorry. I wish I knowed whar he was, so't I could fetch him hack. I'm scandalous mad at myself fur takin' that money from you an' Don, an' if I had ten dollars I'd give 'em back to-night; but I hain't got 'em, an' so I'm goin' to try an' find his dog fur him.”
“He'll be very glad to get him,” said David, who knew very well that his brother had some other reason for taking this sudden interest in the pointer.
“I want to act decent now, like a gentleman had oughter act,” Dan went on; “an' if I do what I can fur Don, do you reckon he'll call it squar'?”
“I don't know. You must talk to him about that.”