CHAPTER IX. 



DUCK-SHOOTING ON THE INLAND LAKES. 



Out "West — 'way out West — a very long distance 

 from our eastern cities in miles, but, thanks to steam 

 and iron, ayery short one in hours, upon an island ly- 

 ing in a bay that debouches into one of the great chain 

 of lakes, is situated a large, neat, white-painted and 

 comfortable house, where a club of sportsmen meet 

 to celebrate the advent and presence of the wild 

 ducks. The mansion — for it deserves tliat name 

 from its extent and many conveniences — peeps out 

 from amid the elms and hickories that cover the 

 point upon which it stands, almost concealed in 

 summer by their foliage, but in winter protected, as 

 it were, by their bare, gaunt limbs. From the 

 piazza that extends along the front a plank pathway 

 leads to the wharf, which shelves into the water, 

 like the levees on the Mississippi, and down or up 

 which each sportsman can, unaided, run his light 

 boat at his own sweet will. Adjoining the wharf is 

 the out-house, where the boats are stored in tiers, 

 one above another, and are protected summer and 

 winter from the weather. Not far off stands that 

 most important building, a commodious ice-house, 

 suggestive of the luxuries and comforts that a better 

 acquaintance with the ways of the place will realize. 



