8o DUCKING DAYS 



crippled the hen. She started to swim away from us, 

 with Sandy in pursuit. It was some fine race. The 

 wind was blowing a gale and the waves ran high. At 

 times they would both disappear in the tossing yellow 

 waters but all the times Sandy was drawing closer. 

 Then we saw him catch her and let himself go with 

 the current. Vic said, "He can't make it back" (almost 

 five hundred yards); "he sure will be drowned." But 

 the wise dog that he is, he let himself go with the cur- 

 rent and landed nearly three-quarters of a mile below 

 us with the duck. He was nearly exhausted but would 

 not give up. Vic has some good dogs himself, but he 

 said, "I will have to hand it to Sandy as the best dog 

 I have ever seen." My love for this dog is almost a 

 passion. He is never too cold or worn out to make one 

 more try for me. Without him we would get very few 

 ducks on the old Missouri on this part of its course. 

 Sport With the Geese 



One fine morning last November Vic and I were on 

 one of the many sand bars for which the fabled old Mis- 

 souri is noted, examining it for signs of geese. We saw 

 where they had been feeding on the new growth of 

 young willows, of which they are very fond. We put 

 out the decoys and dug us a pit and prepared to await 

 their return. 



