David tried to answer, but could not utter a word. Don, believing that it was because he was out of breath after his rapid run, continued:
“You’ve had plenty of time to hear from those quails, and I suppose you’ve got a pocketful of money now, haven’t you?”
David had by this time approached so close to the brothers that they could see that his face was very pale, and that his eyes were red and swollen with weeping. He stepped upon the shore end of the jetty, and throwing himself down upon it, covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forth, sobbing violently. Don and his brother looked at each other in great surprise, and at length the former managed to ask: “What’s the matter?”
“O, Don!” cried David.
“Well, I can’t make any thing of that reply,” exclaimed the boy. “Tell me what’s the matter with you. Hasn’t your money come?”
“O, yes, it came,” sobbed David.
These words, and the tone in which they were spoken, let Don into the secret of his friend’s trouble. Impatient to know the worst at once, he walked up and caught David by the arm. “Out with it,” said he. “Where’s your money now?”
“I worked so hard for it,” cried David, “and mother needed it so much; but now it’s gone—all gone. I’ve lost every red cent of it!”
Bert drew a long breath, and seated himself in the canoe with an air which said that this last misfortune was altogether too much for him to stand up under, while Don pushed back his sleeves, placed his hands on his hips, and looked down at the weeping boy.