to induce him to surrender the pointer, that is, if the animal
should be found in his possession. If arguments and entreaties
failed, he was prepared to use other means, although he knew that by
so doing he would bring certain punishment upon himself. Very
fortunately, however, he chanced to reach the camp during his
father's absence, and all he had to do was to liberate the pointer
and go home with him.

"I'm glad it happened just as it did," thought David, drawing a long
breath of relief; "I don't want to get into trouble with father, for
I have seen him angry too many times. If he should catch me here now
I believe he'd half kill me."

"Halloo, Dannie! What brung you up here so 'arly, an' whar be you
goin' with the dog?"

David's heart seemed to stop beating, and his old single-barrel grew
so heavy that he could scarcely sustain its weight. His first impulse
was to take to his heels, but the unexpected sound of the familiar
voice seemed to have deprived him of all power of motion. He did
manage, however, to turn his head and look in the direction from
which the voice sounded, and saw his father standing a little way
off, with his rifle on his shoulder and a squirrel in his hand.

"Dave!" exclaimed the latter, so surprised that he could scarcely
speak.

"Yes, it's Dave," replied the boy, who saw that the battle for which
he had prepared himself was likely to come off after all.

"What business you got up here, an' how come you by that pinter pup?"
demanded Godfrey.

"My business up here was to get the dog. I found him in your camp,
and I cut him loose because I have a better right to him than you
have."

"Wal, we'll see 'bout that thar," returned Godfrey, throwing down his
squirrel and leaning his rifle against the nearest tree. David's face
grew pale, for he knew what was coming now. His father's next move
would be to reach for a hickory.

"Who told you I was up here?" demanded Godfrey, and David's
uneasiness increased when he saw that his father was running his eyes
over the bushes nearest him. He was picking out a good stout switch.

"No one told me," answered David.

"Then how did you know whar I was?"

"I was up here with Don and Bert on the day you swam the bayou, and I
saw you just after you had climbed the bank and were dodging into the
bushes."

"Don't you think you was a very grateful an' dutiful' son to hunt
your poor ole pap outen a good hidin'-place an' make him take to the
water like a