"The what?" laughed the young man, advancing with a large portfolio, which he had taken from the yacht as soon as she was made fast.
"Why, the men that come for the wild geese—gunning, you know."
"Ho, yes indeed! I'd like to be a 'goose-man' myself, for once in a way. What do you say, uncle and aunt; can you make yourselves contented with your geological and artistic prowls to-morrow, and let me off for a bit of a shoot?" Both gave a ready assent, and the speaker turned to Morton.
"And now, my boy, can you add to your favors by showing us the way to this—What's her name?—you mentioned, and telling me, as we go along, where I can get hold of a good guide and sportsman about here?"
As he spoke he attempted to slip a half-dollar into the boy's hand, but it was sharply withdrawn.
"I'll tell you all I can, sir, without pay," flushing as he spoke; for a sudden memory of the cruel needs at home made him almost regret yielding to his first impulse of pride and self-respect.
The young man flushed a little also, and slid he silver piece back into his own pocket rather quickly.
"Pardon me," he said in a graver tone than he had yet used. "I shall be very grateful for your information."
"Well, sir, there's old Uncle Adam Standish, he's the best I know," said
Morton, as they led the way towards the village, followed by the others.
"He can hit his bird on the wing every time, and he can 'honk' so's to
fool any goose alive, and find the best blinds of anybody 'longshore."
"Really? He must be a genius!"