"Don't you want the others?"
"Of course not. We're going to divide. Those ducks will all have to come out of that wheelbarrow again, so that I can count them."
"All right," exclaimed Sam, "out they come!" And suiting the action to the word, he overturned the wheelbarrow, spilling the ducks upon the wharf. "Now, count them yourself," said he, "and then you'll know that you have got what you want."
Oscar proceeded to count out his share of the birds, which he packed away in the wheelbarrow, and, having placed his gun, game-bag, and powder- and shot-flasks on top of them, he stopped and looked around for Sam.
He was standing near the shore-end of the wharf, with his double-barrel on one shoulder and his bunch of game slung over the other.
"If you are all ready, come on," said he.
"But what are you going to do with the rest of those ducks?"
"I am not going to do anything with them. If it is too much trouble for you to ship them to the city, and make forty cents a pair out of them, you had better leave them where they are. I've got all I want."
Oscar looked first at his friend, then at the ducks, and finally began packing them away in the wheelbarrow with the others, while Sam struck up a lively whistle to keep from laughing outright.