Many times during his life had David had good reason to be discouraged, but he had never been so strongly tempted to give up trying altogether and settle down into a professional vagabond, as he was when he left General Gordon's barn and turned his face toward home. He had relied upon Don to show him a way out of his trouble, but his friend had not helped him at all; he had only made matters worse by telling him more bad news. Nothing seemed to go right with him. There was Dan, who never did anything, and yet he was better off in the world and seemed to be just as happy as David, who was always striving to better his condition and continually on the lookout for a chance to earn a dollar or two. Why should he not stop work and let things take their own course, as his brother did? He reached home while he was revolving this question in his mind, and the first person he saw when he climbed the fence and walked toward the shingle-pile to resume work upon his traps, was his brother Dan. "Whar you been an' what you been a doin' of?" demanded the latter, as if he had a right to know. "I've been over to Don's house," answered David; "and while I was there I found out that you and father borrowed my ten dollars." "'Tain't so nuther," cried Dan, trying to look surprised and indignant. "I believe everything Don and Bert tell me. They have never lied to me and you have." "Whoop!" yelled Dan, jumping up and knocking his heels together. "I mean every word of it," said David, firmly. "You have got me into a tight scrape, but I'll work out of it somehow. And let me tell you one thing, Dan; you'll never have a chance to steal any more of my money." "Then why don't you divide it like a feller had oughter do?" asked Dan, angrily. "Why don't you divide with mother and me when you have some?" "Kase I work hard for it an' it b'longs to me; that's why." And knowing by his past experience that he could not hold his own in an argument with his brother, Dan turned about and went into the house. David worked faithfully at his traps, paying no further heed to his brother's movements. He tried to keep his mind on what he was doing, but now and then the recollection of the heavy loss he had sustained would come back to him with overwhelming force and the tears would start to his eyes in spite of all he could do to prevent it. Then he would throw down his hammer and wander about with his hands in his pockets, wondering what was the use of trying to do anything or be anybody while things were working so strongly against him.