92 OUT WITH THE BIRDS 



finally I gave it up and went up to visit my 

 friends at the farm-house. But I left the kodak, 

 with its great eye glowering wearily upon the 

 duck-nest. 



It was nine o'clock next morning when again 

 I visited the place, for the hospitality of my 

 friends prevented me getting away earlier, and 

 I took a chance on the weather harming my 

 kodak. To my joy — but I could not see how it 

 could be otherwise — the duck was on her nest. 

 The moment for which I had waited twenty-four 

 hours had come; and I slipped around into the 

 willows, ever so quietly, and pulled the string. 

 But when a few hours later, in the gloom of my 

 cellar darkroom, I eagerly held the negative up 

 to the ruby light and beheld my duck enveloped 

 in a halo of fog and half obscured by light- 

 streaks, I sadly tossed it into the scrap-box, then 

 sat down on my stool and wondered if after all 

 it was worth while being a kodak man. 



