82 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 
flashes through his brain, “What! shall I shoot at 
nothing, when behind it is a duck that I can surely 
kill? Fie on such advice! I am after ducks, not air, 
and this one is mine.” He changes his aim, blazes 
away right at the duck, expecting of course to kill it,— 
misses it; the duck moves on, while the hunter, notic- 
ing a stray feather that a scattered shot had separated 
from the duck, calls his companion’s attention to it, 
and says, “I hit him hard, look at the feathers fly.” 
This is the experience of every beginner. 
“You have tired at least twenty times, and your ducks 
are still to be had. You haven’t killed one, look in the 
boat; there are at least a dozen that I have killed. 1 
thought [ would let you make several misses, before 
your attention was called to the reason. You have the 
reason now, you are going to kill some birds, and if 
you will only follow my advice, you certainly cannot 
fail.” 
Just then a duck came towards us quacking loudly, 
entirely disarmed from suspicion. ‘ Keep low,” said I, 
*“ Remember what I said. Hold a foot ahead of her 
and she is yours. Kill her! I won't shoot.” 
The duck was a little to one side of us, and about 25 
yards high. Harry fired and made a clean miss. 
“ Look here,” said I, * You din’dt hold ahead of that 
duck. If you had you would have killed it. Here I 
have been giving you the benefit of my twenty years 
experience, and all it cost you was to try it. You prom- 
ised you would, and forgot it within two minutes 
after I got through talking.” 
T don’t know but that I spoke petulantly, perhaps too 
much so; anyway it had its effect on Harry, for he 
turned to me with face flushed, and said, “ Was that 
