THE WHITE FISHER 41 



a shot gun. We were not wise enough to lie still and wait 

 until they came back into range^ but brother told me to 

 lie still and watch and he would creep down the brow of 

 the hill till he got within gunshot. He started on this 

 expedition, but had gone only two or three rods when the 

 pelicans, having finished their fishing, turned about and 

 started to swim back up the pond. One of them spied 

 his head and the end of his gun above the skyline and 

 gave utterance to a low noise very much like that you 

 make by blowing into a large bottle, and without more ado 

 they all took flight. We watched them go down the river 

 and disappear behind the crabapple grove on the bank of 

 Crabapple Pond. Supposing they had alighted in this 

 pond and resumed their fishing, we followed. 



We spent most of the forenoon following these birds 

 from pond to pond and it seemed to me that we must 

 have crawled miles on our bellies in the vain attempt to 

 get within gimshot again. They apparently were not 

 wild, for they never flew far at a time, merely going from 

 pond to pond, but for some reason or other they were on 

 the alert and saw to it that we never again got within 

 gunshot. Once or twice during the morning a flock of wild 

 ducks flew overhead within range; but we were stalking 

 pelicans, and the desire to kill one of them was so strong 

 that we would not shoot at smaller game lest the noise 

 of the gun frighten away the larger birds that we hoped 

 to get a little later. 



When noon came and we had to go home, the only thing 

 we had to take with us was a wonderfully interesting story 

 — which is, after all, the most valuable thing a hunter 

 can get. The next day father determined to go to the 

 river and get one of these pelicans. He had long since 



