"Oscar is too good for any use," said Sam, turning to Miles and speaking in a low whisper. "If Stuart had talked about me as I know he has talked about him, I'd never make up with him in that fashion—never! Let's go home!"
"Oh, no!" whispered Miles in reply. "I haven't seen any birds yet, and neither have you said a word to Oscar about that duck hunt."
Sam pulled out his knife and hunted around on the bench until he found a pine stick, which he proceeded to cut up into the smallest possible pieces; while Miles, after listening to some explanations that Oscar was making for the benefit of the clerk, went into the recess.
Sam was standing with his back to the three boys, but he could distinctly see every move they made.
On the wall, opposite the curtain, hung a broken mirror, which had once held an honored place in Mrs. Preston's parlor.
Sam glanced into this mirror now and then, while he was engaged in cutting up his stick, and saw that Stuart was paying very little attention to what Oscar was saying to him.
He appeared to be very uneasy, for he was constantly stepping about, and most of the time he kept his eyes fastened intently on Sam.
When Miles came in and began questioning Oscar about the specimen he was holding in his hands, Stuart walked to the other side of the recess, ran his eye over the stuffed occupants of the shelves, and then he came out into the shop and examined the tree on which Mr. Jackson's birds were to be mounted. After that he looked at Sam again.
The latter was standing a little to one side of the mirror, with his hat drawn down over his forehead, and seemed to see nothing but the stick he was whittling.