DUCK-SHOOTING. 229 
us gave one or the other a shot, and each could 
mark birds approaching the other from behind. 
The morning passed rapidly away amid splendid 
shooting, and noon found us united in my hiding- 
piace to eat a sociable meal together. During the 
middle of the day the birds repose, and the sportsman 
employs the time in satisfying the cravings of hun- 
ger or even in a nap, interrupted though he may be 
im either by an occasional whirr of wings, that, when 
it is too late, informs him_of lost opportunities. 
We talked over matters. As the day had cleared 
off and become warm, the prospect of sport for 
some hours at least was over, and my friend sug- 
gested we should visit the snipe ground. To ap- 
prove the suggestion, to push out and to ship our 
oars, was the work of a moment, and we were 
soon at Mud Creek bridge, a pull of about two miles 
through an open lead, from which the ducks were 
continuously springing on our approach. Having 
anchored our boats a short distance from shore, to 
prevent the wild hogs paying us a visit, we waded 
to land, and substituting small shot for the heavy 
charges in our guns, walked a few yards up the road 
and crossed the fence. 
Thad brought my setter with me, and he had 
proved himself a model of quietness in the boat, 
from the bottom of which he had raised his head 
only once all day; when my first duck dropped he 
rose on his haunches, and watching where it fell, 
sniffed at it as I pushed up, and then, satisfied he 
had no part in such sport, lay down to sleep. 
