250 DUCK-SHOOTING. 
kept on sinking, I had to own up that I was afraid, 
and then he only laughed louder than ever. 
“‘ My feelings were beyond description—fury does 
not adequately describe my rage; but fear so tem- 
pered it, that I seemed to change suddenly from 
the extreme of heat to the extreme of cold. I 
would begin by swearing at him, and end by im- 
ploring; I begged, cursed, prayed, and raved. 
Overcome by his unrestrained delight, at last I 
threatened—pouring out upon him the vilest abuse, 
and dire menaces of what I would do when I did 
get out. The prospect of that, however, rapidly 
diminished—the nasty, slimy mud rose by percep- 
tible degrees—and then he made me take back all 
my threats and apologize to him. In the agony of 
my returning terror, he actually made me beg his 
pardon. | 
“* When, however, hope was nearly over with me, 
he slowly, with maddening deliberation, took a rail 
from the nearest fence, and, interspersing the opera- 
tion with much improving advice, began to pry me 
out. As I rose towards the upper world my courage 
returned, and my revenge was merely waiting till 
my body touched terra firma to take ample amends. 
Even that satisfaction was destined to disappoint- 
ment; for when I was so far out, that with the aid 
of the rail I could help myself, he dropped it, and, 
suspecting my intention, he scuttled off as fast as 
his black legs would carry him. 
“What an object I presented after effecting my 
escape—from head to foot one mass of mud; my 
