238 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 
Deutcher’s Vaterland,” and winking sleepily at Jim, 
leaned back against a tree. 
“Well; I must be going,” exclaimed the boy. 
* Good-bye, gentlemen, much obliged for the dinner.” 
He had got about twenty yards from the hunters before 
Hans missed him. 
“ Don’t you see? Don’t you see, Shim? Dot poy 
is going off mit our dugs? Schtop him! schtop him!” 
“ Keep quiet,” Jim answers, ‘* 1 don’t intend he shall 
getaway. Give me your money.” He calls the boy back 
To throw off suspicion, he slips Hans’ gloves from his 
pocket, and tells him he forgot his gloves. The boy 
says they are not his. He then apologizes for calling 
him back, and says: “ What are you going to do with 
your ducks ?” “Take ’em home,” replied the boy. 
‘Don’t suppose you would like to part with them?” 
“No; don’t care to.” 
“I don’t want them,” said Jim, * still, thought if you 
were anxious to get rid of them, my friend not feeling 
well, we could possibly use them.” 
“ Doan’t dink ve vant ’em,” interrupts Hans, at the 
same time looking as if he would like to pound himself 
for saying it. 
“You can have them,” the boys says, “If you pay 
my price.” 
“ All right, ve vill take ’em,” Hans exclaims ex- 
citedly. 
“What?” Jim says in astonishment, looking 
fiercely at Hans. 
“T mean,” replied Hans, submissively. ‘“ Ve vill 
dake ’m if ve can acree on brice.” 
“ What do you want for them?” queried Jim. 
ce Fifty cents a piece,” replied the boy. 
