Duck-shooting 29 



the river with every blast of wind went to the 

 bones. " We'll see canvas to-day shuah," but even 

 the thought of canvas-back didn't warm up much. 

 It seemed a long while before we reached the bay 

 on the other side ; this was covered with sheet ice. 

 By some misfortune a single duck about now 

 passed within shot of the boat, and by a still greater 

 misfortune he was winged ; for in attempting to 

 finish him, between the duck and my companion 

 and Wat, I was landed feet first in about four feet 

 of water — a trifle high for boots. I can feel myself 

 shiver as I recall it. There was no going back ; 

 the only thing to do was to go ashore and build a 

 fire. Meanwhile Wat set the decoys in front of 

 a bush blind near shore. Before he had finished, a 

 flock of broadbill dropped in ; this was the signal 

 for getting started, and we soon found ourselves in 

 the blind, bobbing around in a leaky skiff, left to the 

 mercy of a northeast wind and a snow-storm. Wat 

 went back to the fire and incidentally put out two 

 or three decoys offshore. It was a day for ducks 

 if not for anything else. We were scarcely fixed 

 when over the wooded point in front a black line 

 appeared; in a few seconds it turned into a flock of 

 broadbill, and circling around the cove headed for 

 the stool. There were twenty or more ; they all 

 came in and all went out, though somebody fired 

 both barrels. Another flock came into sight from 

 the same direction and presently were hovering 



