SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. 55 
and the current will carry us, when I am tired of 
sculling. . 
There! now she’s all right. I never trim a boat for 
sculling without thinking of my shooting companion 
and old friend, Ben Woodward. He is the most par- 
ticular man I ever saw; and the best sculler. After 
trimming the boat he always made some excuse to walk 
toward the woods. Usually, to get a little more plunder, 
but really, to see how the blind would look from a 
distance. He would examine it critically ; as carefully 
as a woman does her hair before going into a reception 
room; and then, if it suited him, it was a smart duck that 
hecouldn’t scull. Get in the bow and turn your back to 
me. Those little places along the side are made to put 
shellsin. Fill them up. Have plenty handy. They 
won't spoil if you have all those racks full; besides, I 
am liable to call on you for some. She doesn’t loom up 
much, does she? Only about three inches, not counting 
the four inch combing that hides us. You thought 
that a large place decked over on the bow? Apparent- 
ly it is, about four feet; still it’s essential to make a 
good blind. 
We are now right in a splendid duck country. Par- 
don the plainness of my speech, but it is absolutely 
necessary not to talk, and you must keep your eyes 
open and your mouth shut. Consider yourself at 
liberty to speak when spoken to, but be assured you 
will have plenty of time for reflection. Shove that 
shell-box out of your way and sit on the bottom on the 
hay. On ducks on the water give them the first barrel, 
the other when they rise. Don’t wait for me, they 
won't get away without hearing from me. This is a 
likely spot for them in these young willows. Mark. 
