"So do I," whispered Tom to his friend Bob. "Dan has lived by his wits long enough, and if Silas doesn't begin to take some interest in him, the sheriff will have a word or two to say about those setters. I can see plainly enough that he intends to hold that affair over Silas as a whip to make him behave himself."
"Do you think Silas will ever have the reward paid him in a lump?" asked Bob.
"No, I don't, because he doesn't know enough to take care of so much money. Joe can get his any time he wants it, for Mr. Warren knows that he will make every cent of it count."
Then, aloud, Tom said:
"Well, Bob, seeing that we've got to get up in the morning, we had better be going home. Come over bright and early, Joe, and we will take your things back to your cabin."
"And I will send up another supply of provisions," said Mr. Warren.
Joe thanked his employer, bade him good-night, and led the way out of the yard.
For a time he and his party walked along in silence, and then Silas, who began to have a vague idea that he had been imposed upon in some way, broke out fiercely:
"What did old man Warren mean by saying that if I didn't get all my money by the time spring comes, he would advance enough to set me up in business?" Silas almost shouted. "Looks to me like he'd 'p'inted himself my guardeen, and that he means to keep a tight grip on them twenty-five hundred, so't I can't spend it to suit myself. That's what I think he means to do, dog-gone the luck!"