308 AMERICAN GAME BIRD SIIOOTHSTG. 



other said that as soon as men became crazy at their success 

 in duck-shooting it was customary to anchor them in the 

 stream until their ardor cooled, or they became sane once 

 more; but even this implied threat made no impression 

 on liim, and all he could say Avas: 



"I don't care a hang what you do to me; I must have 

 bagged a dozen of those ducks myself, if I didn't kill 

 every one of them." 



As this proved that he was hopelessly duck crazy, fur- 

 ther hints were deemed to be unavailing, and he was left 

 to the tender mercies of time and more flocks to restore 

 him to his ordinary senses. Before he had concluded all 

 his terpsichorean evolutions, the guide, who seemed to 

 be staring at the clouds, sung out: 



"Mark ducks, gemmen; mark river; here they come in 

 piles." 



On looking, sure enough they were in '' piles," for 

 thousands of them were rushing up the river. 



The first team was composed of black ducks, and we 

 expected to make a haul among them, but just as we 

 thought they would sink to our decoys they wheeled about 

 and fled back as if they had been suddenly imbued with 

 the idea that their wooden images were gross frauds and 

 dangerous acquaintances. The teams behind them did 

 not display such a suspicious nature, however, for they 

 swept down to our decoys in the most familiar manner, 

 but before many of them could settle, the ten barrels 

 again blazed forth almost simultaneously, and their 

 shower of lead must have brought down thirty or forty 

 mallards and canvas-backs. Several were only wounded, 

 and as they tried to flutter away we had an opportunity 

 of trying our accuracy at shooting single birds. Before 

 the last of them was killed, another mass of feathers, 

 comprising ducks of several species, came sweeping to- 

 wards us, producing a noise like the whistling roar of an 

 approaching whirlwind, and as they came fluttering and 



