“All right,” said Don. “I’ve brought you a new dog to break for me. Isn’t he a beauty? He is a present from a friend living in Memphis. He is five months old, and as I found him standing the chickens in the yard this morning, I think it high time he was taught something. I’ll give you what I promised, and what we gave you for breaking the others.” While Don was speaking, Godfrey, who sat within reach of his son, turned about on his barrel and slily pulled David by the sleeve of his coat; but the boy paid no attention to him--that is, he did not look at him. But he did pull his sleeve out of his father’s grasp, and move toward the other side of the door out of reach. “I’ll do the best I can with him,” said David. “And that will be as well as anybody can do,” returned Don. “We will leave him in your charge and I hope the next time I see him, I can take him to the field for a good day’s sport. Take the best of care of him, for he is a valuable animal.” David caught the pointer by a collar he wore around his neck, and led him behind the cabin to a kennel he had there, while the brothers, after lifting their hats to Mrs. Evans, turned about and galloped away. “You’re a purty son, you are,” said Godfrey, as David, having secured the pointer, came back and seated himself on his block of wood again. “Didn’t yer feel me a pullin’ an’ a haulin’ at yer coat, an’ tryin’ to tell yer not to promise to break that pup fur them ’ristocrats?” “I did,” answered David. “Then why didn’t ye pay some heed to it?” “Because I want the ten dollars--that’s why.” “Ten dollars!” repeated Godfrey, opening his eyes. “Is that what yer goin’ to get fur it? It’s a heap of money fur a boy like you to make so easy, an’ that’s just what makes me ’spise them Gordons so. They’ve got ten dollars to pay fur breakin’ a pup that haint wuth his salt, an’ I haint got ten cents to buy grub with. Just look at this yere!” Godfrey went on moving his jack-knife over the table which was supplied with nothing but corn bread, fat bacon and buttermilk in the way of eatables and drinkables. “Now aint this a purty mess for a white man an’ a gentleman to set down to? If I couldn’t remember the time when things was different, it wouldn’t be nigh so hard; but I can. ’Taint so very long ago that we had fresh meat, an’ coffee, an’ pies, an’ cakes, an’ light bread fur grub, an’ I had a pipe of store tobacker to smoke arter eatin’ it; but now--dog-gone sich luck!” cried Godfrey, striking the table such a blow with his open hand that the dishes jumped into the air, and the cracked pitcher, which held what was left of the buttermilk, fell in pieces, allowing its contents to run out among the plates.