THE DUCK-MOTHERS 83 



prehensions well founded. Scarcely had I taken 

 up a position with Andy, back about a hundred 

 paces, when two black scalawags settled on the 

 fence-posts and curiously eyed the kodak. It 

 required very little play of imagination to inter- 

 pret their conversation and gestures. After con- 

 siderable talk on the subject, one of them slipped 

 over to get a better view, then saw us lying on 

 the ground and turned to interview us; this 

 proved his one big mistake in life, for Andy 

 handled the gun. Two more followed over the 

 same route, shortly after; then the survivors 

 learned their lesson — the crow is always an apt 

 scholar — and henceforth they gave the field a 

 wide berth. 



We expected that the duck mother would re- 

 turn in an hour at most; but one, two, three 

 hours slipped by and she remained away. There 

 was nothing we could do except await her pleas- 

 ure. However, waiting for almost anything 

 short of execution was a pleasure on such a day, 

 and we lay in the warm sunshine and traded ex- 

 periences and renewed old ones. A few days 

 previously Andy had discovered in the same 

 field a nest of five new-born prairie hares — a 

 rare find — and he recounted the tragic ending 



