SHOOTING MALLARDS IN A SNOW STORM Tere 
sadly neglected, necessarily so, on account of want of 
opportunity 
I had promised to take him out after ducks, and took 
pleasure in living up to that promise. To be sure, he 
was inexperienced, and knew little or nothing of what 
was expected of him. But his want of knowledge was 
more than overbalanced by his eagerness and willing- 
ness to do his share of hard work, and to make the best 
of a very disagreeable and nasty day. Promptly on 
time, 6.50 A.M., we met by appointment at the depot, 
destined for the river, thirty miles away. A change of 
clothing had made a complete change in the appearance 
of my friend. On this occasion I was his tailor; at 
least, supplied him with ready-made clothing, pants, 
hat and coat of heavy ducking, dirty and begrimed 
with the natural consequences of many hunts. How 
different he looked from the day before ;—then a gen- 
teel person in business suit,—now the very picture of 
indifference and neglect, as if he could whack a bull 
or drive the foraging cattle from the corn-field at a 
moment’s notice. Underneath his arm he held, seem- 
ingly a box; from its size, I thought it contained bed- 
clothing, but since we intended returning the same 
night, I asked hin what it was. With a broad open 
smile, his lips parted, he simply replied, “ grub.” 
“Grub?” said I in astonishment. 
“Yes,” said he, “grub. I thought we might get 
hunery, and had a lunch put up.” 
“Well,” said I, “no danger of us starving to-day 
with that amount of eatables with us.” 
“Didn’t intend we should,” replied he, as he tried 
to scratch a hole through his borrowed pants, event- 
ually lighting a match. 
