22 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 
“ Oh-ee-he, Oh-ee-he.” Great days and happy ones 
were they for that boy. Then again we see him a few 
years later; he now has a double-barrelled gun ; his ac- 
coutrements are also changed. Now he hunts on horse- 
back, riding a pony, known for her gentle disposition. 
Approaching a slough, he hears the flutter of wings, 
over his head, and a little to the left is a flock of ten 
mallards. He fires at the leader, and kills the third one. 
No soliloquizing for him; it doesn’t enter his head that he 
made a clean miss, but he regrets the fact that his gun 
scatters so much on birds, when it makes such an 
excellent target on paper. 
He sees ducks lighting in a pond. How well he 
knows that hole! Often and often has he wormed his 
lithe body toward that spot to meet his reward by 
knocking over a mallard, sometimes a pair of them. As 
he crawls along, he stops for breath, then peers silent- 
ly over the waving grass, trying to catch a glimpse of 
the ducks. He looks back at the pony, while she, 
gentle, faithfull Nell, untethered, obedient to her 
master and companion’s call waits for him, and nibbles 
and munches away at the succulent bottom grass. Those 
were the happy days of his young life. No cares, no 
responsibilities, nothing to mar the mirror of his boy- 
hood days. All was with him unalloyed pleasure and 
happiness. To be sure, he was vexed with school, 
especially when the wild pigeon was seeking its northern 
home; but the vexation was borne with complacency, 
because he knew that after school time was his, and 
the flight of the pigeon would continue until the man- 
tle of darkness was thrown over the earth, until after 
the going down of the setting sun. We see him in the- 
