“Dan hasn’t discovered his loss yet,” said Bob, “for he has only just shot the squirrel.” He held the box at arm’s length as he spoke, and after looking at it affectionately for a few seconds, put it into his game-bag. “Dan will be back to his camp in a few minutes, and I would give something to know how he will act when he finds that his money is gone. His money! It is mine by right, and now that I have got it I am going to hold fast to it. I’ll have a new shot-gun now and a jointed fish-pole in spite of Don Gordon and Dave Evans.”
Bob reached home in due time and his appearance there surprised the family, who wanted to know why he had returned at so early an hour, and where his game was. Bob replied that one reason why he had come home was because he was hungry, having eaten no breakfast that morning; and another was because he had seen no game to shoot except squirrels, and he had grown tired of hunting. His mother prepared a breakfast for him, but if he was hungry his actions did not show it. He was hardly able to swallow a mouthful; and as soon as he could do so without running the risk of being questioned, he arose from the table and left the house. In order to do this he was obliged to watch his chance and slip out while there was no one in the room; for the tin box, which he had taken the precaution to transfer from his game-bag to his trousers pocket, stuck out so that when he stood erect no one could help noticing it. He succeeded in leaving the house without attracting any one’s attention, and dodging his father, who was in front of the shed saddling his horse, he bent his steps down the lane. There was a log lying on the fence corner, about half a mile from the house, on which he had sat and dreamed away many an hour since he had read that advertisement in the Rod and Gun, and there Bob stopped to feast his eyes on the contents of the box and make up his mind how he was going to spend them.
“The gun will cost me seventy-five dollars,” said he, as he seated himself on the log, straightened out his leg and began working the box out of his pocket. “That includes shells, wiping rod, loading tools, and things of that sort. The primers and ammunition will cost at least five dollars more. A nice lancewood bass rod will cost eight dollars, a reel five dollars, and hooks, lines, sinkers and bobbers—say two dollars more. That makes ninety-five dollars. Then I shall need a nice game-bag like Don Gordon’s, a fish-basket and a hunting-knife, and if they don’t cost more than five dollars they will be cheaper than I think they are. Say they will cost ten; that makes one hundred and five. Now what shall I do with the other fifty-five? Perhaps I had better buy a new saddle and bridle. If Lester had only acted like a white boy I would have bought some decoys, and he and I could have had high old times this winter shooting ducks and geese. But I’ll warrant I’ll find some way to spend the money.”
Bob having by this time succeeded in getting the box out of his pocket, removed the cover, and after looking up and down the lane, and before and behind him, to make sure that there was no one in sight, he took the bills out and counted them. They were all there, and having satisfied himself on this point Bob put them back, replaced the cover and laid the box down on the log by his side.
“Now, where shall I put my money?” thought he. “I must keep it hid somewhere, for of course it would be dangerous to let any one know that I have got it. What would father say to me if he should find it out?”
Bob suddenly paused, and an expression that it would be hard to describe settled on his face. The thought that had just passed through his mind called up another: If it would be dangerous to let his father know that he had a hundred and sixty dollars in his possession, would it not be equally dangerous to let him see the new shot-gun, fish-pole and other fine things he intended to purchase with the money? If Mr. Owens would be curious to know how Bob had acquired so great and sudden wealth, would he not be equally anxious to know where the gun and fishing-rod came from?
“I declare that never occurred to me before,” said Bob, resting his head on his hands and looking thoughtfully at the ground. “I am no better off now than I was when I hadn’t a cent in my pocket. I can’t enjoy the money now that I have got it. What in the world am I going to do?”
If there ever was a boy who was in a quandary it was Bob Owens.