CHAPTER XXVIII. CAPTURE OF BOB EMERSON.
Although the young game-warden did not see them, Silas Morgan and his hopeful son Dan were both sitting on the river bank, in plain view of the cabin, when he came home. They were both surprised to see him, and Dan gave it as his private opinion that one night alone in the woods had effectually taken away all Joe's desire to act as Mr. Warren's game protector during the winter.
"And I'm just glad of it," said Dan, spitefully. "I hope in my soul that that hant came and looked in at his winder, and howled and screeched at him like he did at us."
"Well, I hope he didn't," answered Silas. "If Joe is drove away from there, I don't know what we will do for grub and such when winter comes. I ain't a going up to old man Warren's wood-lot to work, I bet you!"
"Neither be I," said Dan.
"Then where's the money to come from? We can't live without money, you know."
"Well, Joe ain't going to give you none of his'n, 'cause he told me so. He's going to give every cent of it to mam, and you and me can go hungry for all he cares."
"No, I don't reckon we'll go hungry. I know when pay-day comes as well as he does; and when I know that he's got the month's wages in his pocket, can't I easy steal it outen your mam's possession after he hands it over to her? Didn't think of that, did you?"
"Well, you won't never steal any money outen mam's pocket, nuther," replied Dan. "Whenever she wants anything from the store, Joe he'll give her an order on old man Warren, and mam won't tech none of his earnings. He told me so. You're mighty sharp, pap, but that Joe of our'n is one ahead of you this time."
Dan looked to see his father go into a fearful rage when he said this, but Silas did not do anything of the sort. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands supporting his head, gazing off into the darkness toward the opposite side of the river.