THE NORTH SHORE 85 
keep a careful watch. Watchful expectation occupies 
most of the time anyway in duck shooting. 
At last two mallards came over high up. They 
looked far out of shot, but it was dull business sitting 
there doing nothing so I resolved to chance it. The 
mallards were flying side by side, the drake turning his 
head now and then, evidently looking at my decoys. 
I aimed at the nearest bird—it was a brown duck, the 
female; instantly shifting my aim at the drake I let go 
and down he came. As he struck the water, he seem- 
ingly found the fountain of life and springing into the 
air, he soared away as though nothing had happened. 
My gun was open for a new cartridge; closing it quickly 
and bringing the gun to my shoulder I fired again. It 
was more of a snap shot than is usual in duck shooting, 
but the duck stopped right where he was. Jimmy 
grudgingly admitted it was a fair shot, but that was as 
far as he would go. 
‘‘What more can I say?”’ said Jimmy finally; ‘‘you 
only grazed the duck’s head with a single shot; you 
stunned him for an instant, but he was topside up the 
moment he hit the cold water. If you had killed him 
when high up in the air it would have been one thing, 
but you only knocked him down and had to reshoot 
him. I don’t call that a good shot.’”’ We talked it 
over for some time but Jimmy would not admit the 
shot was a good one even then. 
A big flock of the larger shore birds went sailing by. 
Jimmy watched them with interest; at last he said, 
‘“‘What’s the difference between a jacksnipe and a Wil- 
son snipe?’”’ 
“Do you know a jacksnipe,”’ I asked, ‘‘when you see 
one?”’ 
‘Why of course I do,”’ replied Jimmy. 
