And he did.
While he was on the way to his store, he met a tall, dignified gentleman, who stopped to exchange a few words with him.
It was Mr. Chamberlain, the principal of the High School. The two men had met on that very street, at that very hour and near that same spot, every day except Saturdays and Sundays, for more than a year. The principal was the best educated man in town, and a good many hard nuts were brought to him to crack.
"You know everything, professor," said Mr. Jackson, after the usual greetings had been exchanged; "but you never knew of a duck being shot out of a tree, did you?"
"Certainly," was the unexpected answer. "The wood-duck of Audubon, commonly called summer duck. It is the most beautiful species of the duck family, and reflects all the colors of the rainbow. It never makes its nest upon the ground, but always in some hollow tree that hangs over the water. As soon as the young are hatched, they throw themselves down into the stream below without the least injury. There goes the first bell! Good-morning, Mr. Jackson!"
"I've learned something," thought the druggist, as he continued his walk toward the store. "Oscar was right when he put that duck in the tree. It beats me where that boy found time to pick up so much information about birds and things."
Meanwhile Oscar, with his forty dollars in his pocket, was trundling his wheelbarrow merrily over the sidewalk toward home.
He wanted first to place his money in his mother's hands—he thought it would be safer there than in his pocket—and then he intended to go down to Mr. Peck's boat-house after the decoys, sail, and oars he had left there on Saturday.
He placed his wheelbarrow in the front yard, but when he tried to open the door he found it was locked.
"Mother has gone over to visit some of the neighbors," thought he. "I'll stay here until she comes back. I've got the key of the shop in my pocket, and I can find plenty to do there."