6 “COME DUCK SHOOTING WITH ME” 
flock.”” The gun he mentioned was the old style Le- 
fever, the kind that opened by pushing up a lever hang- 
ing in front of the trigger guard. 
We had a bully shoot that morning. It was a day I 
shall always remember. The twenty-eight mallard de- 
coys made a nice showing in the bend of the river and 
our blind was hidden on the point of the bend where 
Bogardus said, ‘‘We’ll get ’em both coming and going.”’ 
The skiff, hidden in the reeds, was used to pick up the 
fallen ducks before they drifted away. It was exciting 
to see so many ducks. It was like the duck stories I 
had read and hardly believed possible, but we did not 
pick up many ducks to start with. I was in such a 
quiver of nerves that I missed my first three shots. 
‘‘A little tangled up, ain’t you?”’ asked Bogardus. 
“I should say so,”’ I replied. ‘‘You’re right about 
the gun and these old shells don’t seem of much ac- 
count either.”’ | 
‘“‘Don’t get sore,”’ grinned Bogardus. ‘“‘I’d miss a 
dozen shots if I could feel a little of your enthusiasm. 
The gun and shells are all right but possibly something 
might be said about the pointing of the gun.”’ 
‘“What do you mean?”’ I asked. 
‘Well, you know I sat right behind you, and every 
time you shot you aimed straight at the duck. Re- 
member a flying duck don’t stay long in the same place. 
You must aim a little ahead of them and shoot in the 
air where they ain’t.’’ 
Turning round I saw a big mallard coming towards 
the decoys, promising a cross shot at not over thirty- 
five yards. Bogardus saw him too and whispered, 
‘“Here comes one; take it easy, aim straight at the duck, 
then throw your aim eighteen inches ahead of his bill 
and shoot quick.’’ The mallard flew by, offering an 
