66 “COME DUCK SHOOTING WITH ME” 
Jimmy’s trained eyes, accustomed to looking great 
distances, not only caught sight of the duck, but 
named him, before my fairly longsighted eyes could see 
anything. 
A canvasback duck is like a bumblebee. When he 
starts for somewhere he makes a straight line for it. 
Ducks differ greatly in this respect. Take an old pin- 
tailforexample. Heis curious and cautious to the core. 
His long suit is circling a hundred yards away. Your 
only show to get him is to keep well hidden and take a 
long chance should he, by accident, miscalculate and 
swoop in within shot. 
Jimmy had his pump gun ready, loaded with only a 
couple of shells, instead of six, so as to play fair with 
my double. The canvasback took no notice of decoys 
or stand, but swept by, sixty yards away, facing a 
brisk wind that had just started up. Jimmy fired both 
shells and never touched a feather. My gun was at 
my shoulder and aiming away ahead I let go the full 
choke left barrel. To my surprise down came the drake 
with one lone shot in the head. 
‘‘By Gosh!” said Jimmy, ‘‘that’s one on me; I fired 
eight feet ahead of him and missed clean. How much 
leeway did you give him?” ‘‘About eighteen feet,”’ 
I replied. ‘‘He was making rag time after you sent 
those two shells after him. I allowed four feet for 
windage.’”’ 
‘“‘Windage! Huh, I don’t believe in windage. It 
isn’t possible that wind can blow aside such little duds 
as shot. Confound it, I guess after this I had better 
shoot on calm days,—but as I was saying about my 
railroad journey: 
‘“There was a light in my eyes and I thought at first 
it must be sun up, then something that felt painfully 
