CHAPTER VIII. A FORTUNATE DUCK-HUNT.
The young hunters found Oscar's skiff where the owner had left it, drawn high and dry upon the bank, and fastened with a lock and chain to a tree that stood a short distance below Mr. Peck's boat-house.
Mr. Peck, who made a business of fishing and renting sail- and row-boats for the accommodation of the village pleasure-seekers, was standing on his wharf when the boys came up.
"Going ducking?" said he. "Well, I'll tell you what I wish you would do for me," he added, upon receiving an affirmative reply. "I let one of my boats yesterday afternoon to a stranger to go down to Cottonwood. He was to have been back before dark, but I aint seen no signs of him yet. Didn't look to me like a man who would be likely to run off with a boat, because he wore a gold watch and gold spectacles and that showed that he was able to buy a boat if he'd wanted one."
"How long has this fog been on?" asked Oscar.
"Ever since midnight."
"Then perhaps he became bewildered and tied up somewhere to wait for the fog to lift," continued Oscar. "If he is a stranger, of course he doesn't know the river."
"I don't see how in the world he could get bewildered," observed Sam. "If he had rowed over to this bank, and come straight up stream, he would have found the village without any trouble. He certainly knew enough for that."
"Well, I aint so certain of it, neither, Sam," said Mr. Peck. "'Pears to me, now that I think of it, that he didn't know much of anything. I give him my best boat, too, for he looked as though he was able to pay for it. I wish you'd kinder keep an eye out for him, and set him right if he has missed his reckoning."
"We'll do it, Mr. Peck," said Sam.