342 DUCK SHOOTING. 



of the frost and could not leak a drop. We shivered 

 under our heavy coats. Far and wide the bottoms 

 were a sheet of ice, for winter had caught old Skunk 

 "out on a high," though the water was now within the 

 banks, ice being on either shore, and the meagre current 

 in the middle looked blue-black and forbidding in the 

 morning light. A cold wind whistled through the 

 trees, and the whole scene was so dismal that it was 

 with feelings almost of foreboding that we stepped 

 aboard and shoved off, heading eastward, where a faint 

 gray streak told of the coming day. Fifteen minutes 

 passed in silence as we sped on down the racing current. 

 Then a sharp whizz greeted our ears as a solitary spike- 

 tail crossed from the right. We dropped two empty 

 shells in the bottom of the boat, and the duck went right 

 on; a double miss to begin on. Now an old mallard 

 starts from under the willows and he comes down dead 

 all over. Two more follow and meet a like fate. Then 

 they start up by the hundred, from under the ice, 

 among the willows, from the dry ground. "Shoot! 

 shoot !" my companion cries, and as fast as I can work 

 the top-snap I comply. Half our ducks fell on shore, 

 and before we could break through the ledge of ice 

 many of the cripples were lost beyond recovery, some- 

 times creeping off a hundred feet beneath a sheet of ice, 

 where a man could not follow them. 



We now exchanged places, and Virgil took the bow 

 with both guns, it being our agreement that but one 

 should shoot at a time, we not caring to add another to 

 the list of accidents from careless shooting in boats. 



