Читать книгу Two Ways of Becoming a Hunter - Castlemon Harry - Страница 6

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"What is it, Oscar?" said Mrs. Preston, while an expression of anxiety settled on her pale face. "Oscar, what has happened?"

"Nothing much, mother," replied the boy. "I am discharged. That's all. Is dinner ready?"

"O Oscar!" exclaimed his mother.

"It's a fact. Mr. Smith wants to bring down his expenses, and, as I was the youngest clerk, of course I had to go."

He said nothing about the grocer's refusal to give him the letter of recommendation for which he had applied. That was his own trouble, and he would not burden his mother with it.

"Don't look so sober. We have funds enough in the bank to support us for a few months, and there are fifteen dollars more," he added, handing out the money he had received from Mr. Smith.

"But you know we were saving that to make the first payment on the mortgage," said Mrs. Preston anxiously.

"Yes, I know; and perhaps we will use it for that purpose yet. I shall start out as soon as I get something to eat, and hunt up a situation. Is dinner ready? I have brought home a good appetite."

And Oscar thought he had. But when he found himself seated at the table in the cosey little dining room, with a substantial and well-cooked dinner before him, he discovered that he did not want anything to eat.

He forced down a few mouthfuls, then put on his overcoat, kissed his mother good-by, and went out.

But where should he go? That was the question. There were but three grocery stores in town, and he knew that they were supplied with all the clerks they needed. If the truth must be told, he did not expect to obtain another situation.

But it would never do, he told himself, to give up without making an effort; and, besides, he felt much better while he was stirring about in the open air than he would have felt if he had remained at home and mourned over his hard luck.

When he reached Main Street, he could not muster up courage enough to enter a single one of the stores at which he had determined to apply for work. Who would hire a boy that had been refused a letter of recommendation by his last employer?

While he was turning this question over in his mind, someone called out:

"Hallo, there! You're just the boy I want to see. Come in here."

Oscar turned, and found that he had been hailed by Mr. Jackson, the village druggist—a fat, jolly man, who seemed to carry an atmosphere of cheerfulness with him wherever he went.

He gave the boy's hand a tremendous grip and shake, after which he led him through the store into the office, pushed him into a chair, and seated himself in another.

"Well, Oscar," said he, "I haven't seen you for a long time. How does the world use you?"

"The world uses me well enough," replied Oscar; "but some of the people in it might treat me a little better if they were so inclined."

"Yes; there are a good many people about us who seem to be of no earthly use here except to get themselves and others into trouble," said the druggist; "and when we meet any of them, the best thing we can do is to attend to our own business and pay no attention to them."

"But what shall a fellow do when he has no business of his own to attend to?" asked Oscar.

Mr. Jackson laughed so loudly and heartily that the boy was obliged to laugh, too.

"I know what you mean by that," said the former. "I heard this morning that Mr. Smith had discharged you, and if I were in your place, I should be glad of it. I guess he didn't pay you much."

"No, sir; but the little he did pay me was very acceptable. In fact, I don't see how I can get on without it. I must find another situation to-day, if it is a possible thing."

"Well, you might as well give up the idea, for it isn't possible," answered the druggist. "I'll warrant that Smith has had half a dozen applications for your place already. Now, while you are waiting for something to turn up, why can't you do a little job of work for me? I want a case of birds, to put in my dining room—something like the one you sold Parker, only different, you know; that is, different birds and different groupings—if that's the way to express it."

Oscar straightened up in his chair at once. It was astonishing what a change these few words made in his feelings.

"I believe Parker paid you forty dollars for that case of his, didn't he?" continued the druggist. "Well, I'm willing to pay the same price for one equally as good. How long will it take you to put it up for me?"

"About a week. I have all the birds I need; they are a fine lot, too, if I do say it myself—but I must make the case, you know."

"All right! Go to work as soon as you please. When it is finished, take it to my house—Mrs. Jackson will show you where to put it—and come here for your money. Remember, now, that I want nothing but game-birds. I don't care for snow-birds and canaries, like those you put in Parker's case."

"They were not canaries," said Oscar, who could hardly help smiling at the jolly man's ignorance of natural history. "They were gold finches—the little fellows you sometimes see picking the seeds out of thistles."

"Oh!" said Mr. Jackson. "Well, I don't want any of 'em. I want nothing but game-birds."

"I am sorry to say that I can't fill the order that way," replied Oscar. "The bottom of the case won't hold all the birds I intend to give you."

"You needn't put them all on the bottom. Stand them up in a tree, the way you did Parker's. The wood cock, snipe, and plover are small birds, and they could go up there as well as not."

It was now Oscar's turn to laugh.

"I can put a grouse in the tree," said he; "but who ever heard of a snipe or wood-cock in such a situation? Those birds are not perchers or climbers; they are waders, and live wholly on the ground."

"Oh! ah!" said Mr. Jackson, settling back in his chair with an air which said that Oscar had not made matters much clearer to him by his explanation. "But I'll tell you what's a fact," he added, straightening up again as a bright idea struck him—"I know I have seen quails in trees."

"So have I; but it was only when they were pursued by some animal, such as a dog or fox. If I should put any quails in your tree I'd have to account for their presence there by putting a fox on the bottom of the case, and he would take up too much room."

"Well, Oscar," said the druggist, after thinking a moment, "I guess you understand your business better than I do. Fix up the case to suit yourself, and I shall be satisfied."

Just then the front door opened, and a couple of ladies came in. Mr. Jackson hurried out to wait upon them, while Oscar, who was in a great hurry to earn those forty dollars, buttoned his overcoat and left the store.

His face was fairly radiant with joy, and so completely was he wrapped up in his own thoughts that he did not see the gentleman who, after trying in vain to avoid a collision with him, finally seized him by the arm and held him fast.

"Why, Oscar, I thought it was you!" exclaimed the gentleman. "How do you do? By the way," he added, without giving the boy a chance to reply, "have you any more of those horned owls that you stuffed last winter?"

"No, sir; they are all sold," answered Oscar.

"What did you get apiece for them?"

"Three dollars."

"Well, now, I want one of them to put into a little niche at the head of my stairway," continued the gentleman. "If you will shoot one for me, and mount it, I'll give you three dollars for it."

"I am afraid I can't do it, Mr. Shaw. They are very scarce; and those I shot last winter I found by accident."

"Then get up a little earlier in the morning and hunt a little later at night, and I'll give you five dollars. If you succeed, bring the bird around, and your money is ready."