CHAPTER XII. AN EVENING WITH THE PRINCIPAL.
"I will detain you but a moment, Sam," exclaimed Oscar. "I have received a check from Calkins & Son for $7.20, to pay for the ducks we killed on Saturday."
"Good for Calkins & Son!" replied Sam. "If they are always as prompt as that, they are the men we want to deal with."
"Half of it belongs to you, you know."
"Yes, I know it," answered Sam, once more turning his face toward the gate. "You act as my banker, and when I want my share, I'll make out a draft for it."
"Hold on, Sam!" shouted Oscar, who knew very well what this meant; "I'll do nothing of the kind."
"Oscar, you are the most stubborn fellow I ever had anything to do with," said Sam, shaking his finger at his friend, and utterly ignoring the fact that he had never been known to give up to Oscar in a single instance. "I never saw so obstinate a boy; you want your own way all the time. Now, put that check in your pocket and keep it there. If it is too much trouble for you to do that, give it to the poor. Good-by, and be ready for me at a quarter past four."
Sam turned down the street and set off at a rapid trot. He had just time enough left to eat his dinner and reach the school-house before the last bell rang.
"If there is a confiding fellow in the world, it is that Oscar Preston," said he to himself, as he ran along. "That crazy man has bamboozled him completely. I was sorry to dash all his bright hopes to the ground, but I thought he ought to be waked up to the real facts of the case. I never saw a boy look so sorrowful and downhearted as he did when I told him what I thought about it. I wish from the bottom of my heart it was an offer he could depend on. Wouldn't he be in clover, though! A hundred dollars a month and expenses, for travelling about the country shooting birds and animals! Just think of it!"
Oscar watched his friend as long as he remained in sight, and then, leaning his elbows on the work-bench, he rested his chin upon his hands and looked thoughtfully out of the window toward the evergreen screen behind the house.
He was by no means as cheerful and hopeful as he had been a short half hour before. His crony's visit had depressed his spirits wonderfully, but Sam was not to blame for that.
He had asked him what he thought of the president's proposition, and Sam—as he always did—had answered his question promptly, and in language that could not possibly be misunderstood.
Perhaps Sam was right, and he would never again hear of the man who had called himself President Potter.
Oscar had resolved more than once that day that he would not build any hopes upon the offer he had received; but, in spite of all his efforts, his thoughts would dwell upon it, and every little while he found himself indulging in some rosy dreams of the future.
Would it not be a good plan to take Sam's advice and tell Mr. Smith that he would go back to the store for the wages he had, of his own free will, offered to give him?
The thirty-five dollars a month he was sure of—the larger sum he was not sure of. While he was thinking about it, his mother came to the door and called him to dinner.
The first thing Oscar did when he entered the dining room was to place in his mother's hands the money he had been paid by Mr. Jackson, and the check he had received from Calkins & Son; but he said not a word to her regarding the interviews he had held with Professor Potter and Mr. Smith.
He could not describe these interviews without telling of the propositions that had been made him, and he did not want to do that until he had determined upon something.
He wanted time to look at the matter from every possible standpoint, and he found ample opportunity to do it that afternoon, for he spent very little time in work. He went back to the shop as soon as he had eaten his dinner, but he could find nothing there to interest him.
He finished sweeping out, and rearranged his specimens on the shelves, but it was all done by snatches. He would work a few minutes, and then he would walk up and down the shop with his eyes fastened upon the floor.
When four o'clock came his chores were all done, and having exchanged his working-clothes for a neat business suit, he was ready to accompany Sam to his home, where he passed a few hours in the most agreeable manner.
Everybody who visited there said that Mr. Hynes's house was one of the pleasantest and happiest in Eaton, and Oscar had always found it so. It was just the place to go when one was troubled with the blues, as our hero had been all that afternoon.
Sam's father and mother were very jolly people, and his sister, besides being a fine singer and pianist, played chess so well that Oscar, who was sometimes given to boasting of his own skill, was often badly worsted.
Seven o'clock came almost before the boys knew it, and then they put on their caps and set out to visit the principal of the High School.
Ringing the bell at his door, they were ushered into the library, where Mr. Chamberlain sat with his slippered feet on the fender and the evening's paper in his hand.
He greeted Oscar very cordially, for the latter had been one of his favorite pupils. He had never been known to break one of the rules of school, and had never been reprimanded. He went to school to learn, and for no other purpose.
Do you know such a boy? If you do, you know one whom all his teachers like.
"I am glad to see you again, Oscar," said Mr. Chamberlain, as he shook his visitors warmly by the hand and placed chairs for them; "and I must congratulate you on your good fortune. I knew it would come after awhile."
"Thank you, sir," replied Oscar, wondering how the gentleman had heard of it.
"It never does any good to allow ourselves to get discouraged," continued Mr. Chamberlain, sinking back into his easy-chair. "It is always darkest just before daylight, you know. I must say that I am surprised as well as delighted."
"So am I, sir," returned Oscar. "I never expected that he would make an acknowledgment, even though he received the most positive proof that he had been mistaken."
"Acknowledgment!" repeated Mr. Chamberlain. "Who made any acknowledgment? What are you talking about, Oscar?"
"Why, I thought you referred to what passed between Mr. Smith and myself to-day," replied the boy.
"I hadn't heard anything about that. Has Mr. Smith found out that he did you injustice? I am glad of it," said Mr. Chamberlain, upon receiving an affirmative nod from Sam. "I knew that would come, too. You may have the satisfaction of knowing that not a single one of your friends ever believed anything wrong against you. I may also say," he added, with a smile, looking toward Sam, who blushed to the roots of his hair, "that some of your acquaintances hold very strong opinions on that point, and that those opinions have been enforced with the aid of a ball-club. But I was speaking of the offer you received from President Potter. He called on you this morning, did he not?"
"Do you know him, Mr. Chamberlain?" exclaimed Sam.
"Certainly I do. He was my old preceptor, and my guest while he was in Eaton."
"But is he really president of the Yarmouth University?"
"He certainly is. What else did you take him for?"
"I took him for a crazy man," replied Sam bluntly.
"A crazy man! Sam, I am surprised at you!"
"Well, now, Mr. Chamberlain, if you had been in our boat and had heard him talk when we pulled him out of the water, you would have thought so yourself, if you had been a stranger to him."
With this introduction Sam went on to repeat the speech the professor had made while he was lying on the bottom of Oscar's skiff. He had paid particular attention to it, and could recall it word for word.
"That is just like him," said Mr. Chamberlain. "If he were lecturing a class in this room to-night, and the house should catch fire, he wouldn't leave off until the smoke or flames drove him out. He becomes so completely absorbed in his subject that he doesn't seem to hear or see anything; and I have known mischievous students to steal out of the class-room, one after another, until there were not more than three or four left, and he never missed them. If I had not called his attention to the fact that he had Sam's cap on his head, he would have worn it to Yarmouth when he went away this afternoon. Sam, you will find the article in question on the hat-rack, when you go home."
"I'd like to ask one question, before I forget it," said Oscar. "Is it possible that there are men who, by looking at a single bone, can give you the name of the beast or bird to which that bone belongs? Mr. Potter told me to-day that some of his students once brought him a bone they had found in the woods, and which they supposed to be the bone of a mastodon; but it proved to be the bone of an ox."
Mr. Chamberlain leaned his head against the back of his chair, looked up at the ceiling, and laughed until his eyes were filled with tears.
"I wonder if the professor still remembers that little incident?" said he. "If my memory serves me, I used to be pretty well acquainted with that same student. He knew very well that the bone did not belong to a mastodon, but he thought he would test the old gentleman's knowledge. It is hardly necessary to say that he was entirely satisfied with the result of the experiment, and had the laugh turned on him completely by the other students who were in the plot."
There was something in Mr. Chamberlain's tone that made the two boys smile at each other. They believed that if the principal had given the name of that student, he would have given one that sounded very much like his own name.
"The professor told me to-day that he had offered you a hundred dollars a month and all expenses, to procure specimens for the university museum," continued Mr. Chamberlain, addressing himself to Oscar, "and you may rest assured that you will get it. Mr. Potter has a hundred thousand dollars to spend in that way, and I see no reason why you should not earn a good portion of it. You have a number of years of steady employment before you, at more than living wages, if you are inclined to accept this offer."
The boys listened to these words with the greatest amazement, and it is hard to tell which of the two was the more delighted thereat.
Sam was overjoyed to learn that he had been mistaken in the opinions he had formed, and could hardly refrain from jumping up and tossing his cap into the air.
As for Oscar—he blessed his lucky stars that he had not accepted Mr. Smith's offer, as he had more than once been tempted to do that afternoon.
"Mr. Chamberlain," said Sam, as soon as he had controlled his excitement, so that he could talk intelligibly, "what is a—a—where's that list, Oscar?"
The latter produced a piece of paper, on which he had copied the hard words he had written on his pine board that morning—that is, all that Sam had not been able to translate for him—and handed it to his companion, who passed it over to the principal.
Mr. Chamberlain glanced at the first words on the list, and shook his head.
"Perhaps I haven't spelled them correctly," observed Oscar.
"They are the things the professor went down the river after on Saturday," chimed in Sam.
"Oh, the Fuligula Valisneria," exclaimed Mr. Chamberlain. "That is the canvas-back duck."
"Ah!" said both boys, in concert.
"The family Canidæ is the dog family," said Mr. Chamberlain, turning again to the list. "The family Tetraonidæ is the grouse family, and Tetra Umbellus is the ruffed grouse, which almost everybody calls a partridge. In the South, the quail is called a partridge, and the grouse is called a pheasant. I hope you boys will never allow yourselves to fall into such habits. You can't begin too early in life to call things by their right names. To the family Ampelidæ belong the chatterers; Bombycilla Carolinensis is the cedar bird. The Cervidæ comprise the deer family, and Cervus Virginianus is our common red deer; the hollow-horned ruminants are the antelopes. There is only one species in the United States, and that is the pronghorn of our Western plains. If you should go out there to hunt him, you would see no end of sport, Oscar, and, I suppose, no end of hard times. I hope you will not expect to find it all plain sailing, simply because you have stepped into an agreeable and profitable situation. Ursus Americanus is the American black bear; Ursus horribilis—you mustn't have anything to do with him—that's the grizzly bear, the most dangerous and dreaded animal in the country. Ursus maritimus—that's the polar bear—is almost as bad."
"The names on that list include the animals they want in their museum," said Sam, "and Oscar will be obliged to hunt them if they tell him to do so."
"Would you dare do it?" asked Mr. Chamberlain, looking at Oscar.
"I don't know, sir. My courage has never been put to the test. But I will say this: If they will give me a chance to work around home until I can earn money enough to support my mother while I'm gone, I'll start for the plains, or for Africa, within twenty-four hours after I receive their order."
"I like that spirit," said Mr. Chamberlain. "If you are going into a thing, go into it as though you were alive and wide awake. By the way——"
The principal laid down the list, and arose to his feet. Opening his bookcase, he took from it two large and finely bound volumes, which he placed upon the table at Oscar's elbow.
"When you go home, take these books with you," said he. "Keep them as long as they are of any use to you, and they will tell you everything you want to know about birds and animals, scientific names and all. I have the best of reasons for saying that you will be summoned to Yarmouth in the course of a few days, to pass a sort of examination before the committee, and I want you to acquit yourself with honor; so, if I were in your place, I would spend all my spare time in 'cramming.'"