122 DUCKING DAYS 



When gathering, if a flock headed in toward our de- 

 coys, Nigger Tom would flop over on his back, with noth- 

 ing but his little round face exposed. He had every ap- 

 pearance of a float on the cork line of a seine. If a duck 

 was wounded he carried a sawed-off shotgun out to sea 

 with him, which he flred most accurately on escaping 

 birds. 



With our punt boat made stationary, our boat blind 

 covered with reeds and tules, and our decoys located in 

 such a position that the ducks, when decoying, came up 

 against the wind, it was seldom we sent Tom out after 

 a cripple. We usually snuffed out their duck lives at 

 once. 



The surroundings and success of this hunt were all 

 that any sportsman's heart could wish or desire. The 

 cabin cruiser was palatial in every appointment. No 

 little accessory or refinement had been overlooked that 

 could have added in any way to our comfort or pleasure. 

 The Old Timers' Story 



Gather in now, you old timers! Here comes a story 

 from one you have shot with at the traps, been enter- 

 tained by, remember for his congenial, cheerful and 

 sunny disposition. He is a man who never let a friend 

 get by without an invitation to be wined and dined by 

 himself and good wife at their home. Capt. W. Y. 

 Sedam, formerly of Omaha, now a resident of Eook- 

 port, Texas, is the man. 



