"What a dreadful-looking monster! And do you mean to tell us, Mr. Wallace, that this terrible beast was killed by a boy?"

"That's what they say," answered the gentleman addressed.

"How brave he must be! Go and find him, please. I should like to see him."

"It will afford me great pleasure to do so. I don't know him even by sight, but I can soon find someone who does."

It was eight o'clock in the evening. The museum doors had been opened, and the guests had nearly all arrived.

There was a crowd about each one of Oscar's "masterpieces." Among those who were gathered around the grizzly was a group composed of three ladies and a gentleman, and it was one of the former who uttered the exclamation, and asked the question with which this chapter opens.

A little distance away, and within plain hearing, stood Oscar Preston, with his mother on his arm.

The boy had heard a good many flattering remarks during the quarter of an hour that had elapsed since the guests began to arrive, and he had wished more than once that he was back in the foot-hills, with nobody but Big Thompson for company.

He could hardly make up his mind which was the most trying ordeal—facing a grizzly when a human life depended on his nerve, or hearing himself praised by people who, being unacquainted with him, expressed their sentiments in his presence without the least hesitation.

"Let's go away, mother," said he in a whisper. "I don't want to be introduced to those ladies if I can help it; for they will ask a thousand and one questions. I shot the bear, dreadful as he looks, but I would rather that somebody else should tell the story."

Oscar presently found Mr. Hynes and his party, who were gathered about the third group, listening to President Potter, who, with his eyes half closed and his hands waving gently in the air, was giving a little lecture on the habits of the animals, and describing in glowing language the fierce battle which Oscar had once witnessed between a flock of bighorns and a pack of gray wolves.

He left his mother with them and strolled off by himself. Of course he was proud of his success. He felt a thrill of pleasure whenever he heard an exclamation of astonishment or delight from any of the guests, and could scarcely repress a smile when his ear caught a little scream, uttered by some timid lady, who, when about to explore some of the numerous nooks and alcoves that were constantly presenting themselves in the most unexpected places, found her progress disputed by some threatening animal.

When Sam Hynes found him he was standing in a remote corner, watching the crowd before him, and acting altogether like a disinterested spectator.

"What are you doing here, Oscar?" demanded Sam, seizing him by the arm. "Come out of that!"

"No, you don't!" replied Oscar. "Let go and clear out yourself."

"Can't think of it—can't possibly think of it," said Sam resolutely. "I was sent to bring you, and I am going to do it. There are a lot of people here who want to see you."

"Why can't they look at the specimens and let me alone?" said Oscar.

"They have seen all the stuffed specimens, and now they want to see an animated one," answered Sam. "You belong to the museum, you know. Didn't I tell you long ago that they would make a lion of you? I'd show a little more pluck if I were in your place. Come on, I tell you!"

Oscar was not the only brave boy who has hesitated to face a battery of bright eyes; but he was forced to go with Sam in order to avoid a "scene," for the latter clung to his arm with a firm grip.

He mingled with the guests, and although he blushed and stammered a little at first, he gained confidence when he heard the sound of his own voice, and in a few minutes he was talking glibly and sometimes eloquently of his winter in the foot-hills.

The evening passed rapidly away. The hop was most enjoyable, and the supper excellent; but when Oscar and his mother seated themselves in the two o'clock train, bound for Eaton, he told her he was glad it was all over.

He rested on Friday—and if ever a boy needed a rest he did—and spent Saturday in the woods with Sam Hynes. They came back by the post-office, and in his mother's box Oscar found a letter addressed to himself in the well-known hand of the secretary of the museum committee.

He read it to Sam as they walked across the park. It contained an order for him to report at Yarmouth on the following Monday, and wound up with these words:

"Mr. Adrian is so well pleased with your success as a hunter, and with your skill as a taxidermist, that he has offered to advance twenty-five thousand dollars to pay your expenses to Africa. You have often assured us that you were willing to go wherever we might think it to our interest to send you; and, taking you at your word, we have accepted the gift——"

Oscar stopped, and looked at Sam, who backed off and put his hands into his pockets. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, and then walked on again.

—"we have accepted the gift [Oscar read], and we are glad to receive it, as it will not now be necessary for you to draw on our permanent fund in order to foot your bills. I think I may tell you, without violating confidence, that, although you said nothing to us concerning the difficulties and perplexities you encountered during your recent trip to the foot-hills, we know all about them. The commander of the post at Julesburg and Mr. Isaac Barker have written us a full history of your expedition. We appreciate your modesty in withholding these facts. We are both surprised and delighted at your unyielding courage and indomitable perseverance——"

"Oh, Sam, I'll not read anymore of it!" exclaimed Oscar, suddenly stopping and folding up the letter.

"Go on," replied Sam, who was deeply interested. "It is all true—every word of it; for you have told me all about it. 'Your courage and perseverance'—what else?"

Oscar rather reluctantly unfolded the letter again and read:

—"and we have not the least hesitation in calling upon you to engage in a still more hazardous undertaking; for you have firmly established yourself in our confidence. As an extra inducement the committee has been instructed by Mr. Adrian to double your salary. Report on Monday, as above directed, and begin at once to make arrangements looking to your immediate departure for England."

"Is that all? Good-by, Oscar Preston," said Sam, drawing a long breath. "But you want to go, don't you?"

"For myself, yes; for mother's sake, no," answered Oscar as he put the letter back into the envelope.

Africa was a long way off. There were a good many thousand miles of water to be sailed over before he got there; there were icebergs in the Atlantic, and fearful storms in the Bay of Biscay; there were fierce wild animals and deadly serpents in this new hunting-ground; and there were a scorching sun and a malarial climate to be faced.

Sam Hynes had not another word to say. When he reached the corner where he was to turn off he seized Oscar's hand and wrung it energetically, at the same time turning away his head, so that his friend could not see his face, and then walked rapidly away.

"There is one, at least, who dreads the parting as much as I do, and if I should never come back he'd be sorry," thought Oscar, gazing after Sam, who, with his hands thrust deep into his pockets and his chin resting on his breast, was taking long strides up the sidewalk. "Yes, I know Sam would be sorry. Here is another," he added, stopping to pat Bugle, who just then put his cold nose into his master's hand. "And here, in this house, is the third," he said to himself as he opened the gate. "But what can I do? My trip to the hills was the means of lifting the mortgage off this house and giving mother a balance in the bank, and who knows but my journey to Africa may be productive of other good results? I must go, whether I want to or not. I said I would, and I shall keep my word."

Oscar handed the secretary's letter to his mother without saying a word, and then, as he did not want to see her read it, he went out and strolled about the yard and rearranged the tools in his chest.

When he came back at the end of an hour he saw that she had been crying.

That night there was a long consultation held between the anxious mother and the ambitious, hopeful son, but we will not stop to repeat it, nor will we dwell upon the arrangements that were made for the boy's departure from America.

It will be enough to say that before Oscar went to bed that night it had been settled that the committee's order should be obeyed; that he took the first train for Yarmouth on Monday morning; that he had an interview with the committee, who gave him minute instructions in writing and promised him letters that would assist in smoothing the way for him; that he dined with Mr. Adrian, who received him as an honored guest; and that when he came home on Tuesday night he began packing his trunk, in readiness for the start.

The committee had given him a week in which to prepare for his long journey, and he took it, because he wanted to spend one more Saturday with Sam Hynes, whom he might never see again.

We will say nothing about the parting which took place on the next Wednesday morning. There were a good many boys and not a few men at the depot to see him off, but Sam Hynes was not among them.

He rode down in the omnibus with Oscar, and then cleared out abruptly, just as he had done on a former occasion.

Oscar reached Yarmouth in due time, listened to more instructions, received letters of introduction and bills of credit for a larger amount of money than he had ever handled before in all his life; and three days more found him on the broad bosom of the Atlantic.

Of course he was sea-sick, and that was about the only thing that happened to relieve the monotony of the voyage, which, on the whole, was a very pleasant as well as a remarkably quick one.

There was some delay in getting his trunk through the custom-house in Liverpool on account of the weapons it contained; but everything was satisfactorily arranged at last, and shortly afterward Oscar was snugly housed in the hotel to which he had been directed by Mr. Adrian.