"You have, David. I don't know what I should do without you. You are
a great comfort to me."

"And I'm never going to be anything else, mother. I never made you
cry, did I? I ain't going to, either. I can take care of you, and I
will, too. If I can't get work to do, I can hunt and trap small game,
you know; and if I only had a rifle, I am sure I could kill at least
one deer every week. That, reckoning venison worth six cents a pound,
would bring us in about thirty dollars a month. Who says we couldn't
live and save money on that?"

"But you don't own a rifle," said his mother, smiling at the boy's
enthusiasm.

"Well, that's so," said David, sadly. "But," he added, his face
brightening, "I shall have ten dollars coming to me as soon as Don
Gordon's pointer is field-broken, and you shall have every cent of
it. Besides, you haven't forgotten that I'm going to get a hundred
and fifty dollars for trapping quail for that man up North, have
you?"

"Have you heard from him yet?"

David was obliged to confess that he had not.

"He may have made a bargain with some one else before Don's letter
reached him," continued Mrs. Evans. "You know this is not the only
country in which quails are to be found, and neither are you the only
one who would be glad to make a hundred and fifty dollars by trapping