Croaker shooked his head and hopped to the ground. He had grown tired of having Billy put that question to him. With many throaty and indignant mutterings he pigeontoed across the yard, not even deigning to glance back at the laughing man and boy.
"Pa," said Billy, "would you mind comin' to the woodshed an' lookin' over my open water decoys. I've been restringin' 'em, an' weightin' the canvasbacks an' redheads, an' givin' the bluebills a fresh coat o' paint. I'd like to know what you think of my job."
"I heard you and Frank Stanhope arrangin' to go after bay ducks t'other day," said Wilson as he followed Billy into the shed.
"Yep, we're goin' tomorrow if this weather holds. I'll go over this afternoon to fix up a hide on Mud point."
"You seem to have managed the stringin' all right," said the father, examining the wooden ducks on the work bench. "A little too much white on the bluebills, I'd say."
"That's jest what I thought," said Billy. "I'll darken it some."
Wilson leaned against the bench and waited. He knew that Billy had brought him into the shed to speak of other things than decoys.
"Pa," said the boy, in guarded tones, "you best watch that man Hinter, an' watch him close."
"Why?" said Wilson.
"Cause he's up to some game, an' I know it."