The chair moved, but Oscar slept on all unconscious of it. The person below waited and listened a few seconds and then renewed his pulls at the string, putting considerably more strength and energy into them.
This time the chair was upset with a loud crash, and Oscar jumped up and hurried to the window. It was too dark to see anybody, but he knew who was there.
"We'll have to make haste, for I overslept myself," said Sam Hynes's well-known voice. "Did I do any damage up there? I heard something come down pretty hard."
"Oh, no!" was the reassuring answer. "Have you had any breakfast?"
"Of course not. I intend to get it here."
"All right. I'll be down in five minutes."
Oscar dressed himself with all haste, and when he went downstairs he found Sam waiting for him at the back door.
Bugle entered when Sam did—he always kept as close to a gun as he could—and frisked about in high glee, thrashing the boys with his heavy tail and continually getting in their way.
"Splendid morning," said Sam, as he leaned his gun up in one corner. "Warm and foggy; more like spring than fall. The ducks always fly low during a fog. What can I do to help you?"
"Nothing at all. Just sit down and make yourself comfortable. The fire is laid, and it will take but a few minutes to make a cup of coffee. You think it is going to be a good day, do you? Then I ought to make some money before night. Calkins & Son of Yarmouth have written me a letter offering to take all the game I can send them."