"We saw him capsize off the head of the island," replied the boy.
"Didn't I tell you that he didn't seem to know much of anything?" exclaimed Mr. Peck, in disgust. "There's no excuse for upsetting that boat in this wind."
"None whatever," was Oscar's answer. "When he jibed the sail he didn't move over to windward, and it was his weight and the sails that overturned the boat. The wind wasn't to blame for it at all. We left the boat as we found it, keel up, and going down the river as fast as the current could take it. Our passenger was so nearly exhausted that we couldn't stop to pick it up."
Mr. Peck remarked that he would go down after it himself, and charge the bald-headed old gentleman a good round sum, too, for his carelessness; and just then Sam came back, wearing one of Mr. Hall's old caps and carrying Oscar's coat over his arm. He had left his own cap, he said, for the gentleman to wear, for, of course, he couldn't let him walk to his hotel bareheaded.
While Sam was speaking, he jumped down into the boat, which was at once pushed out into the stream and headed toward Squaw Island.
The young hunters had lost more than an hour and a half of the best part of the day, but still there was time enough for them to double the size of their bag if the ducks would only be accommodating enough to come within range of their double-barrels.
Contrary to Oscar's predictions, the breeze which had so suddenly sprung up, and driven off the fog, continued to blow steadily for three hours.
Within twenty minutes after leaving Mr. Peck's wharf they reached the island, but they did not add a single duck to their bag on the way. They saw plenty of birds, but every flock flew wild.
Oscar at once put Sam and his double-barrel on shore, and then pulled back into the stream a short distance, to set out his decoys.