RIVER SHOOTING. 345 



ning thus for some time in silence, except an occasional 

 "Port a little ! straight away !" from my companion, I 

 was startled by the double report of his gun, followed 

 by the whistle of a flock of mallards as they passed up 

 stream. Two ducks lay stone dead upon the water. 

 "Thought you weren't going to shoot any more," said 

 I. "Well," said he, a little ashamed, "I couldn't help 

 it ; the old gun would come up, and I had to hold her, 

 you know." We changed again before long, and I 

 made a righteous resolve not to shoot another duck, and 

 allowed several to pass unsaluted. Finally an old 

 drake came shooting along by the river. "It would be 

 a sin," thought I, "to kill that duck, for we have a 

 plenty. Shoot him ? No. That's not so easy, though. 

 I don't know — I guess — just watch me drop him as 

 he crosses." Now, is not that an intense moment, 

 when the gun comes just against the shoulder and the 

 duck seems glued to the end of the barrel ? Every in- 

 tervening object is blotted out ; you can see nothing but 

 the duck, and he falls to the crack of the gun as if you 

 had struck him dead with a concentrated eye glance. 

 But, alas ! alas ! for my principles. I had killed another 

 duck! 



We now left both guns unloaded, and one taking his 

 seat in the stern with the paddle and the other at the 

 oars, we went ahead in grand style, and in due time 

 reached our journey's end. Here we pulled out our 

 boat and locked her to a tree, but happening just then to 

 meet a native with a train, we concluded a hasty bar- 

 gain by which he was to haul our boat over to the sta- 



