98 GAME-BIRDS AT HOME. 



into the reeds on the other side of the pond 

 where it would not pay to lose time in looking 

 for him. 



It soon became painfully evident that the nice 

 little gun that had cost so many guineas in Lon- 

 don and had such genuine platinum ''vents" in 

 the breech — I had tested them with all the acids 

 then obtainable — was a failure for this kind of 

 game, although I had done fine work with it in 

 the heavy brush of the Atlantic coast. And my 

 feelings were not soothed by the dull wop that 

 followed almost every roar of my companion's 

 gun, no larger than mine and a cheap botch of 

 American pig iron. 



While I was gazing into the blank caused by 

 despondency, two blue-winged teal shot across 

 the void, one about four feet ahead of the other. 

 I tossed the gun ahead of the foremost bird at 

 about the same distance I had been used to 

 shooting ahead of quails and woodcock in brush, 

 and pulled the trigger. The rear duck skipped 

 with a splash over the water stone dead, while the 

 one at which I had aimed sped across the reeds 

 with unruffled feather. I had fallen into the 

 common error of the tyro in duck-shooting of 



