366 DUCK SHOOTING. 



land of Nod just in time to hear my comrade's gun 

 from the other end of the boat, to see two or three 

 ducks come whirHng and splashing below, while the 

 rest of the flock were towering nicely skyward just as I 

 got hold of a gun. 



What camp-fires roared along the Illinois in those 

 days ! It saddens me to think that such days may come 

 no more for me. Driftwood piled as high as we could 

 throw it, shot a glare across the river until the dead 

 cottonwoods upon the other side looked like imploring 

 ghosts with arms stretched heavenward, and we could 

 almost see the white collars on the necks of the geese 

 that passed high above us. Bunches of mallards, wood 

 ducks, sprigtails, etc., hung around the fire, with every 

 color glowing brightly as in the evening sun, and 

 naught was needed save a string of trout or a deer to 

 make the scene complete. Cold, and all other jars that 

 shiver this mortal crockery, were banished there, and 

 all thought of the whole outside world went whirling 

 away into the vortex of flame and sparks that streamed 

 skyward through the tree-tops. Little did I hear of the 

 song or jest or the laughter that almost woke the 

 echoes from the eastern bluffs. For by some strange 

 principle of suggestion, some mysterious mental con- 

 nection, the whole outer circle of darkness was to me a 

 picture gallery upon which I could lie and gaze by the 

 hour. The walls of that dark rotunda beyond the fire 

 were for me full hung with the brightest scenes of the 

 new life I had entered, and they drew with them by as- 

 sociation all those that I had passed through before. 



