Don uttered a long-drawn whistle and looked at Bert to see what he thought about it; but the blank expression on the latter's face showed that he was altogether in the dark.
“Well, let it go,” said Don, picking up his hammer again. “I've got the dog back and with that I'll be satisfied. You'll take him home with you tonight, of course?”
“No, I think not. I am afraid to take him there.”
“Then leave him here,” said Don, who now began to think that he knew pretty nearly what had been going on. “He'll be safe with us, and you can find him when you want him. He isn't broken yet.”
“I know it, but I can't do any more for him. I shall have to give you back your ten dollars.”
“I'll not take it. A bargain is a bargain. I want my dog broken, and you need the money to send off your quails with.”
“I know it,” said David again; “but I can't shoot any more birds over him. I have no gun.”
“Where is it?”
“At the bottom of the bayou.”
The brothers grew more and more astonished the longer they talked with David, and Don told himself that there had been some queer doings in the settlement that morning. His interest and curiosity were thoroughly aroused, but he did not ask any more questions, for he knew that David could not explain matters without exposing one or more members of his own family. He turned the conversation into a new channel by saying suddenly: