A POT-HUNTER'S DEFIANCE 51 



contempt had rankled, ' ' 'cause, when I shoot, I do 

 it to eat the birds or sell 'em. Why shouldn't I? 

 That's my livin', ain't it! I don't aim to inter- 

 fere with the way city folks makes their livin', 

 though there's plenty makes it less honest than I 

 do. 



"I'm a 'pot-hunter,' but when a rich dude comes 

 from the city to shoot ducks, some feller who 

 doesn't need either the birds to eat nor the money 

 from sellin' 'em, he's a 'sportsman'! Why, I'd 

 like to know? Nine times out o' ten, he's a dub. 

 He has to have a fisherman build him a blind, a 

 guide tell him where the ducks are, an' a nigger 

 paddle his canoe there. An' when, by usin' 

 decoys, the birds fly right in front of his gun, if 

 he happens to get one or two, he's a great shot an' 

 wins a silver cup for shootin' an' all that sort 0' 

 fool trash. 



"I've been up at those millionaire duck-shootin' 

 clubhouses on Currituck, just north o' here, an' I 

 know what I'm talkin' about. They wanted me 

 to act as guide. Me ! Just one day ' what they 

 called 'sport' was enough. What with duck- 

 blinds, stands, decoys, an' the rest of it, they made 

 as much fuss over a bag ' ducks as a crazy guinea- 

 hen when she has laid an egg. 



