SOME HARMLESS HUNTING 151 



Though the quality of patience in one of the 

 most valuable assets of a hunter, I found one 

 day the next autumn that everything positively 

 does not come to him who waits — ^with a kodak. 

 I had the fond notion though that it did, when 

 one August mid-afternoon I sallied out of 

 camp, and I was indiscreet enough to tell my 

 chum so too. I had waited a week for the 

 proper afternoon to interview a duck host that 

 I had marked for slaughter. The day had 

 come, with its northwest breeze and bright sun, 

 and when I reached the point of the woods and 

 climbed my look-out tree, there they were, as 

 many as I could desire, packed in the narrow 

 neck connecting the two sloughs. 



I will not state just how far I crawled to get 

 into position, nor how long it took to get through 

 and over those yards and yards of noisy, dead- 

 bottom marsh grass, nor how many brads I 

 afterwards extracted from tender parts of my- 

 self. Let it suffice that I took at least one min- 

 ute too long and w^hen I finally paused to wipe 

 the dust from my lens, before springing my 

 grand climax, I noted that the sun had suddenly 

 hidden his face. There in the west was a hog- 

 back wall of clouds with the upper rim just 



