Everything was done to the entire satisfaction of the committee and of Mr. Adrian, the gentleman through whose liberality the museum was founded; and on this particular evening the doors were to be thrown open to the public, and there was to be a supper and afterward a dance.
The students who were at the head of the matter had acquaintances and friends in Eaton, and a good many invitations had been sent there.
When the five o'clock train came these invited guests came with it—Oscar's mother and Mr. Hynes and his family being among the number.
Oscar met them at the depot, accompanied them to a hotel, and then he and Sam—the latter having received a wink he readily understood—managed to separate themselves from the party and to reach the sidewalk without attracting attention.
"I want you to see it first," said Oscar as he took his friend by the arm and hurried him away. "If I do say it myself, you will find some good work there."
Sam was astonished at what he saw. There were four rooms in the museum, the largest being devoted to Oscar's specimens. Against the walls were placed huge cabinets, with glass doors. These were partly filled with the smaller specimens, all of which were stuffed, mounted, and arranged in the most artistic manner; but Sam scarcely bestowed a second glance upon them, for his attention was at once fixed by what Oscar called his "masterpieces," which were placed at intervals along the middle of the room.
There were three of them, the first being the grizzly, which had so nearly made an end of Big Thompson.
The position the animal assumed on that memorable afternoon, while he was awaiting the guide's approach, was firmly fixed in Oscar's memory, and he had succeeded in reproducing it exactly.
So life-like did the grizzly look as he stood there on his platform, with his mane erect, his ears thrown forward, and his glaring eyes fastened on a cabinet on the opposite side of the room, that Sam could hardly bring himself to believe that it was safe to approach him.
The next specimen was the lordly elk that Big Thompson's hunting-dog—the dog that was called Pink on account of the color of his hair, which was black—had beguiled to his death.