A MOR^mG IN A SCULLING FLOAT 7 



They seem petrified with astonishment at the appari- 

 tion that like *' Jack in the box" pops suddenly up from 

 the midst of that innocent looking bit of floating marsh. 

 Now is the time to get that pair with necks in line and 

 as the shot rings out the others rocket and vanish like 

 sprites into the fog. The faithful old double is held well 

 above the last glimpse of a dusky form and a place shot 

 sent in at random. An audacious shot, you say? Quite 

 so. But not more so than is the grouse, whisked from 

 sight behind the covert's screen on which you sometimes 

 chance, and score. 



A moment elapses and we set it down as a wasted 

 charge when something plunges behind the misty curtain 

 and a sound like the soft plash of wavelets upon the 

 shore greets our ears. A few spins of the paddle in the 

 direction and we are hauling a wise old drake over the 

 side to the accompaniment of vigorous wing flapping and 

 flying spray. Close to four pounds will he scale, and 

 quite the handsomest of the whole trio. 



The detonation of the heavy charges reverberate 

 through the quietude with startling intensity and to the 

 awakened echoes respond a multitude of sound. A fox« 

 hound trailing on the nearby hill peals forth a bell-like 

 note in answer. The squall of a jay mingled vdth the 

 cry of the king rail runs along the enshrouded shore, 

 while clearer than all falls the shrill scream of a hen- 

 liawk wheeling above the autumnal woods. 



