THE CAMP ON THE ISLAND.
"Give me an oar!" exclaimed Oscar. "We must get back to the village
without the loss of a moment."
"Then hoist the sail," said Sam, "and we'll go up flying."
"It would be of no use. The wind is dying away, and that fog will be
down on us in a quarter of an hour thicker than ever."
Oscar, who pulled the stroke-oar, kept his friend Sam exceedingly busy
during the next forty-five minutes, and tested that young gentleman's
endurance and muscle in a way they had never been tested before.
They were both tired and quite out of breath when they reached the
wharf, where they found Mr. Peck and Mr. Hall, the miller, waiting for
them.
The boys were glad to see Mr. Hall there. His grist-mill was located
but a few rods away, and they knew that there was a good fire in the
office, in front of which their half-frozen passenger would soon be
thoroughly dried and thawed out.
The two men had seen the skiff coming up the river, and knowing by the
way the oars were handled that there was something wrong, they had
waited to see what it was. When they discovered the rescued man sitting
on the bottom of the boat, they knew what had happened, and there was
no need of inquiries.
"Give us your hand, sir," said Mr. Hall, as the boys lifted the old
gentleman to his feet, "and I'll take you right over to my office. I've
got a red hot stove there. Just catch hold of his other arm, Sam, and
help him along."
"Where did you find him?" asked Mr. Peck, when he was left alone with
Oscar. "And where's my boat?"
"We saw him capsize off the head of the island," replied the boy.
"Didn't I tell you that he didn't seem to know much of anything?"
exclaimed Mr. Peck, in disgust. "There's no excuse for upsetting that
boat in this wind."
"None whatever," was Oscar's answer. "When he jibed the sail he didn't
move over to windward, and it was his weight and the sails that
overturned the boat. The wind wasn't to blame for it at all. We left
the boat as we found it, keel up, and going down the river as fast as
the current could take it. Our passenger was so nearly exhausted that
we couldn't stop to pick it up."
Mr. Peck remarked that he would go down after it himself, and
charge the bald-headed old gentleman a good round sum, too, for his
carelessness; and just then Sam came back, wearing one of Mr. Hall's
old caps and carrying Oscar's coat over his arm. He had left his own
cap, he said, for the gentleman to wear, for, of course, he couldn't
let him walk to his hotel bareheaded.
While Sam was speaking, he jumped down into the boat, which was at once
pushed out into the stream and headed toward Squaw Island.
The young hunters had lost more than an hour and a half of the best
part of the day, but still there was time enough for them to double the
size of their bag if the ducks would only be accommodating enough to
come within range of their double-barrels.
Contrary to Oscar's predictions, the breeze which had so suddenly
sprung up, and driven off the fog, continued to blow steadily for three
hours.
Within twenty minutes after leaving Mr. Peck's wharf they reached the
island, but they did not add a single duck to their bag on the way.
They saw plenty of birds, but every flock flew wild.
Oscar at once put Sam and his double-barrel on shore, and then pulled
back into the stream a short distance, to set out his decoys.
While he was thus employed, Sam was engaged in cutting branches from
the willows that grew near by, and filling up the gaps the winds had
made in the blind they had put up there the year before.
It was built upon the top of a little knoll, about thirty yards from
the place where the decoys were anchored, and so completely was it
concealed by the tall weeds and grass which grew on every side that
anyone who did not know just where to look for it would have hard work
to find it.
When their preparations were all completed, the skiff was hidden in a
little bay, surrounded by the thicket of willows before spoken of; and
the boys, with their guns in their hands, sat down behind their blind,
opposite two loopholes, which commanded a view as far up as the point,
and talked over the incidents of the morning while waiting for the
first flock of ducks to swing to their decoys.
They came to three conclusions concerning the man they had saved from
going to the bottom of the river. He was well-to-do in the world,
judging by his appearance; he knew something about physical geography,
and he was not a proper person to be entrusted with the management of a
sail-boat.
Thus far they agreed, and then they began to differ in their opinions.
Sam declared that there was something wrong with his upper story.
No man, with a level head on his shoulders, would talk as he did
immediately after being rescued from a watery grave.
Oscar, however, had other ideas, and, as it happened, they were correct.
"He is completely wrapped up in his books," said the boy. "Perhaps he
does not know much outside of them, but you take him there, and he is
perfectly at home. There's more knowledge in that little bald head of
his than you and I can ever hope to acquire."
Sam shrugged his shoulders with an air which said, "Perhaps there is,
and perhaps there isn't," and just then the discussion was cut short by
the appearance of a flock of mallards, which drew to their decoys.
They circled around them once or twice, and were on the point of
alighting among them, when one wary old fellow in the flock, not liking
the looks of the wooden deceptions, mounted higher into the air with a
warning quack. Some of the flock followed him, and others tried to do
so, but could not.
Even the wary old fellow himself did not go far, for Oscar brought him
down, in company with two others, before his warning note was fairly
uttered.
The volley was not as effective as the boys intended it should be, for
only five ducks fell. The current carried them to the shore in a few
minutes, and Oscar brought them in and placed them behind the blind.
The sport continued for two hours and a half, and then, the breeze
having died away, the fog settled down again, this time bringing rain
with it.
When the decoys were shut out from view, the boys laid aside their
guns, and Oscar, after placing his game-bag within easy reach of his
friend's hand, arose to his feet and walked off toward the willows,
while Sam began to cut up some dry branches with his knife.
By the time Oscar returned with an armful of wood he had found
in the thicket, Sam had raised a good-sized pile of shavings and
kindling-wood, and a roaring fire was under way in short order.
While Oscar continued to make regular trips between the thicket and
the fire, bringing his arms full of wood each time, Sam selected a duck
from the pile behind the blind, plucked and cleaned it with skill that
would have done credit to any professional cook, and, having impaled it
upon a forked stick, thrust the stick into the ground beside the fire
and left it there, while he proceeded to overhaul the contents of his
game-bag and Oscar's.
The dinner being well under way, and all the firewood they were likely
to need having been placed close at hand, the young hunters sat down to
take a rest; for the exertions they had made to rescue the skipper of
the sail-boat and carry him to the village before he froze to death had
wearied them not a little.
Now and then a hoarse "quack, quack!" came to their ears through the
thick mist, followed by a loud splashing in the water as a flock
of ducks settled into if, and occasionally they heard a lonely
whistle-wing flying down the river; but the fog concealed everything
from their view outside of a radius of twenty yards, and they were
reluctantly compelled to allow the birds to pass unharmed.
They had made themselves comfortable in spite of the moist condition of
things. The branches that Oscar had spread over the ground kept their
feet out of the mud; the high blind, behind which the fire was built,
served to protect them from the gusts of rain that came out of the
fog, and the boys were well contented and were prepared to enjoy their
dinner as heartily as though they had a tight roof over their heads.
The dinner was well worth eating, as all Sam's dinners were; and when
ample justice had been done to it, Oscar brought up the ducks that were
in the boat and placed them with those that were piled behind the blind.
"Sam," said he, when he had counted them, "we've got just forty-two."
"A pretty good day's work," replied Sam. "I want six of them. You take
the rest and ship them to Yarmouth."
"I guess not," answered Oscar promptly. "We'll divide, as we have
always done. Twenty-one of these ducks belong to you, and if you
want any of them shipped to the city, you can attend to the matter
yourself."
"So I can. I didn't think of that."
Sam spoke as though he did not care what was done with the ducks, but
there was something in his tone that caused Oscar to sit up on his
knees and look at him very sharply.
He knew well enough that if Sam sent any of the ducks to Yarmouth they
would be sent in his (Oscar's) name, and that his friend would expect
him to receive the proceeds and apply them to his own use. Sam did not
need the money himself, for he had a rich and indulgent father; but
that made no difference to Oscar, who wanted to earn every cent he
spent.
"Sam," said he earnestly, "if you do that I shall be very angry at you."
"If I do what?" returned Sam innocently.
"Oh, you can't fool me! If you do it, I'll never go hunting with you
again."
"Then I'll not do it, of course; but I don't know what you mean all the
same. Now, as we have nothing else to do, let's draw these birds. Our
shooting is over for the day."
And so it proved. The boys remained behind their blind until it was
three o'clock by Sam's watch, but not another duck showed himself.
They heard them splashing in the water on both sides of the island, but
the mist shut them out from view.
The rain having by this time put out their fire, and the birds having
been cleaned and made ready for the market, the skiff was launched, the
ducks were packed away in the bows, the guns and empty game-bags were
stowed in the stern, and, after the decoys had been picked up, the boys
pulled through the fog toward the village.
When they came alongside the wharf, they found Mr. Peck and Mr. Hall
there, as before.
The former was hard at work upon the wreck of his sail-boat, which he
had found near the foot of the island, and towed home after infinite
trouble, and Mr. Hall stood by, with his hands in his pockets, looking
at him.
"Well, boys," said the miller, "your crazy man is all right. He stayed
by my stove until he was warmed and dried, and then he started for his
hotel."
"There!" exclaimed Sam, turning to Oscar with a triumphant air. "What
did I tell you? Didn't I say he was cracked?"
"That accounts for his upsetting the boat," remarked Mr. Peck. "I knew
well enough that no man, who had any sense into his head, could capsize
in such a breeze as he did."
"There _is_ something wrong with him," continued Mr. Hall. "While he
was standing there, shivering in front of my stove, he discovered my
pet squirrels and canaries, and he walked over to their cages, and
talked to them in the strangest language I ever heard. I took it to be
Greek or Latin. He said he had been down the river after--what did he
call those things he was looking for, Peck?"
"Blessed if I know," was the answer. "I never heard of any such things
before."
"He's got an idea that he is connected with some college," continued
Mr. Hall, "and that somebody has given him a lot of money to spend in
some foolish way. He didn't think, until he got ready to start for his
hotel, that he had lost his gun when his boat upset. The only sensible
thing he did while he was in my office was to give me ten dollars to
pay Mr. Peck for his trouble, and take down Oscar's name and street. I
told him that you had a fancy for shooting birds and animals, and he
said he would make it a point to drop around and see you."
As the miller ceased speaking, he walked off toward his office; Mr.
Peck resumed his work upon the wreck; Oscar went into the boat-house
after his wheelbarrow, and Sam began unloading the skiff.
When everything had been taken out of it, the boat was drawn up on
the bank, turned bottom upward, and made fast to a tree with a chain
and padlock. The sail and the oars belonging to it, as well as the
decoys, were stowed away in one corner of Mr. Peck's boat-house, where
they were to remain until Oscar could find time to come after them.
The ducks made as large a load as he could take to the village in his
wheelbarrow.
When all this work had been done, Sam selected six of the finest ducks
from the pile, and, after tying their feet together with a piece of
stout twine, placed them by the side of the boat-house, out of the
way, and began to assist Oscar in packing the others away in the
wheelbarrow.
"Hold on there!" exclaimed the latter. "How many did you put in then?"
"Don't know," answered Sam, depositing another armful on top of the
first. "Didn't count 'em."
"But I want you to count them. I own just twenty-one of these ducks."
"Don't you want the others?"
"Of course not. We're going to divide. Those ducks will all have to
come out of that wheelbarrow again, so that I can count them."
"All right," exclaimed Sam, "out they come!" And suiting the action to
the word, he overturned the wheelbarrow, spilling the ducks upon the
wharf. "Now, count them yourself," said he, "and then you'll know that
you have got what you want."
Oscar proceeded to count out his share of the birds, which he packed
away in the wheelbarrow, and, having placed his gun, game-bag, and
powder- and shot-flasks on top of them, he stopped and looked around
for Sam.
He was standing near the shore-end of the wharf, with his double-barrel
on one shoulder and his bunch of game slung over the other.
"If you are all ready, come on," said he.
"But what are you going to do with the rest of those ducks?"
"I am not going to do anything with them. If it is too much trouble for
you to ship them to the city, and make forty cents a pair out of them,
you had better leave them where they are. I've got all I want."
Oscar looked first at his friend, then at the ducks, and finally began
packing them away in the wheelbarrow with the others, while Sam struck
up a lively whistle to keep from laughing outright.
He had done his best shooting that day on purpose to make a large bag,
fully intending that Oscar should ship the surplus birds and receive
pay for them; and this was the way he took to accomplish his object.
Indeed, he almost always found a way to make Oscar do just as he wanted
him to do.
Having placed the game in the hands of the express agent at the depot,
and sent a notice of shipment to Calkins & Son, the two boys started
for home, well satisfied with their day's sport.