"Why, where on earth did you get all that money, Harry? Is it yours?"

"Of course it's mine," said Harry. "I sold my gun."

"Oh, Harry!" and the tears actually came into Kate's eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't cry about it," said Harry. "There's nothing to shoot
now; and when we get rich I can buy it back again, or get another."

"Got rich!" said Kate. "I don't see how we're going to do that;
especially when it's such dreadfully dry weather."




CHAPTER XXII.

A QUANDARY.


About a week after the meeting of the Board in the Davis corn-house, old
Miles, the mail-rider, came galloping up to Mr. Loudon's front gate. The
family were at breakfast, but Harry and Kate jumped up and ran to the
door, when they saw Miles coming, with his saddle-bags flapping behind
him. No one had ever before seen Miles ride so fast. A slow trot, or
rather a steady waddle, was the pace that he generally preferred.

"Hello, Mah'sr Harry," shouted old Miles, "de creek's up! Can't git
across dar, no how?"