328 DUCK SHOOTING. 



ground, and while we were there we saw the prettiest 

 bit of shooting done on the trip. 



The Chief was then alone in the pit over which the 

 main flight was passing, and he had his eye on the birds. 

 He took toll out of everything that crossed. Five 

 times we saw him rise and fire at flocks and small bodies 

 of birds, and each time he got meat. Once he killed all 

 three of three ducks that went over down wind, high 

 and fast, a handsome bit of work. Twice he dropped 

 his double out, and out of five accepted chances he did 

 not miss a shot. It was good enough fun to sit and 

 watch this, and Bowers and I both concluded we had no 

 more advice to offer him. When we got to his pit we 

 found him radiant and hugging to his bosom the light 

 i2-gauge, with which he was now thoroughly in- 

 fatuated. He expressed himself as for once absolutely 

 satisfied with the world. "Did you see me deflate that 

 last un ?" he asked cheerfully. 



When we picked up our birds we found that, count- 

 ing a half dozen birds we had given the farmer's wife, 

 we had our limit, or so near it that we did not care to go 

 closer — ninety-eight birds in all. Thereupon came up 

 human nature, as the Chief and I both realized. It was 

 the first day we had had outdoors with a gun for a long 

 time, and the best chance to kill a lot of ducks either of 

 us had ever had in all his life. I confess that my per- 

 sonal wish was to kill some more. I wanted to try just 

 one or two shots more. I wanted to see if I could kill a 

 double out of the flock just heading for us. I wanted 

 — well, I admit I wanted to go ahead and shoot a lot. 



