both bills amount to more than ten dollars?"
asked David, with some anxiety.

Don did not seem to hear the question, for he paid no attention to
it. The truth was he had arranged matters so that David would not be
required to use any of his ten dollars. Silas Jones was to foot all
the bills and pay himself out of David's money when it was forwarded
to him by the agent at S----, the place where the quails were going.
But Don couldn't stop to explain this just now. He told his brother
and David to make haste and put the quails into the cabin; and when
that was done and they came into the shop, he set them at work on the
coops. There was much yet to be done, but they had ample time to do
it in, with more than a day to spare. When the next Wednesday night
arrived fifty-five dozen quails, boxed and marked ready for shipment,
were at the landing, waiting to begin the journey to their new home
in the North, and Don carried in his pocket a letter addressed to the
advertiser, which Captain Morgan was to mail at Cairo.

The boys camped at the landing that night to keep guard over their
property. They pitched a little tent on the bank, built a roaring
fire in front of it, and in company with Fred and Joe Packard, who
came down to stay with them, passed the hours very pleasantly. The
Emma Deane came up the next afternoon, and when the freight had been
carried aboard and she backed out into the stream again, David drew
a long breath, expressive of the deepest satisfaction. His task was
done, and he hoped in a few days more to reap the reward of his
labor.

The boys felt like resting now. They had worked long and faithfully,
and they were all relieved to know that their time was their own. Don
and Bert paid daily visits to their bear trap, hunted wild turkeys
and drove the ridges for deer, while David stayed at home and made
himself useful there, until he began to think it time to hear from
somebody, and then he took to hanging about the post-office as
persistently as ever his father had done. Finally, his anxiety was
relieved by the arrival of the first letter that had ever been
addressed to himself. He tore it open with eager hands, and read
that the quails had been received in good order, and that the money,
amounting to one hundred and ninety-two dollars and fifty cents, had
been paid over to the agent from whom they were received. David could
hardly believe it. The man had paid him for the extra five dozen
birds; he was to