142 GAME-BIRDS AT HOME. 



are on irrigated land, and on a bit of the driest 

 ground I made a bed of corn-stalks. Upon this 

 I stretched face downward with the gun beneath 

 me, coat-collar turned up and cap drawn back so 

 as to conceal neck and hair, and had a peon 

 cover me with corn-stalks and leave me to my- 

 self and patience. 



How easy it seems to talk of patience ! Noth- 

 ing was harder to exercise. Hardly had the 

 sound of the peon's feet ceased, than the wings 

 of big mallards were pounding the air so close 

 that the whistling of the tips of their wing- 

 feathers was plain. Scarcely were these past, 

 when the soft hiss of the sailing wings of canvas- 

 backs in easy flight took their place, as in un- 

 suspicious serenity of soul they came lazily in to 

 alight. Then sounded the wings of a huge 

 bunch of sprig-tails settling into a pool of water 

 in the corn close beside me, while the canvas- 

 backs alighted on some dry ground about equally 

 near and began hunting for corn that had been 

 shelled in husking. Hard, too, was the tempta- 

 tion when the stiff set wings of large bunches of 

 blue-bills rent the air with sharp hiss as they 

 descended. And almost equally hard to look 



