POINT SHOOTING. 389 



Some little time elapsed without any further excite- 

 ment, when suddenly — although we thought that we 

 had been making good use of our eyes — a duck ap- 

 peared quite close to the decoys, coming in as gently as 

 one could wish. I very slowly bent to get my gun, 

 resolved that this time, if it came, I would retrieve my- 

 self. On the bird came, looking only at the decoys; I 

 rose up slowly, but he saw me and flared. I followed 

 him, but gave the gun a little too much swing, and shot 

 over him. Another miss. 



Again despair seized me; and when a little later I 

 missed an easy double at a pair of sprigs, which were 

 alighting among the decoys, it tightened its grip. John 

 said never a word in comment, nor did I. The trouble 

 was too deep for words. 



It is astonishing how much room there is in the air 

 around a duck. I have seen the time when the birds 

 were so thick in the air that it seemed as if it would be 

 impossible to shoot a charge of shot through them 

 without killing one or more, but how very easy it is to 

 spare their lives. After a few more misses, John seemed 

 to feel that I stood in need of comfort and consolation, 

 and ventured the remark that there must be something 

 the matter with my cartridges. I was shooting wood 

 powder, and he asked if the shells were not old ones. 

 They were old ; but I knew very well that if the gun 

 was held right the cartridges would do their work well 

 enough, and— though I say it myself— I was too honest 

 to attempt to excuse my lack of skill on the plea of 

 poor ammunition. 



