“Joe, Pll pay you ten dollars if you will kill’ 
it,” promised the gunner. 
The guide laughed. “Some of the gentlemen 
have promised me more than that,” he said. 
‘But talking of killing Black Warrior, and killing 
him, are two different things. However, of 
course, I'll keep on trying,” he added. 
Very early the next morning our wealthy 
friend went out for his duck hunt. Bundled in 
thick clothing, he sat in the centre of a small 
boat with his gun between his knees and a pile 
of wooden decoy ducks before him. In the stern 
the experienced bayman propelled the boat for- 
ward with a stout paddle. 
It was fine to be out on the water at this time 
of day. The sky was beginning to glow in the 
east, and the few low-hanging clouds, like 
golden billows, reflected the rays of the sun that 
had not yet come up over the horizon. Here 
and there in the early light long lines of wild- 
fowl were winging their way across the sky. The 
water lapped against the side of the boat and a 
gentle breeze fanned the hunter’s cheeks. Under 
the spell of the morning his whole being was 
155 
