Читать книгу Prince Dusty. A Story of the Oil Regions онлайн

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He had been about to pour into this friend’s ear all his troubles, and make a complaint against his Aunt Nancy; but it suddenly occurred to him that by so doing he would be only acting the part of a tale-bearer, which his father had taught him most heartily to despise. Telling things to Uncle Phin was different. He was quite certain that Brace could not help him in his present trouble, and so, when the latter asked with a smile, “Because what, little one?” he answered:

“Because I love you, and I am always glad to see the people I love. Are you going to shoot a well? Can’t I go with you? Aunt Nancy says I am to stay out of her sight until sunset, and the boys have gone fishing, and Cynthia’s doing her patchwork, and I haven’t a single thing to do. Please let me go.”

“Well, I don’t know,” replied Brace Barlow, reflectively. “I don’t suppose there is really any danger; still——”

“Danger!” exclaimed Prince Dusty, scornfully. “Do you suppose I am any more afraid of danger than you are, even if you are a great, big man and I am only a little boy? Well, I’m not. Your old glycerine can’t be any worse than lightning, and I’m not a bit afraid of that. Besides, if I am always going to live in this oil region, I ought to learn all about its dangers, so that I’ll know enough to keep away from them. Perhaps when I have grown to be a giant, like you, I will want to be a well-shooter too, and how can I if I haven’t learned how?”