390 DUCK SHOOTING. 



It was not until after lunch that I got my first bird, 

 John and I had both become careless about looking out, 

 for it seemed useless to see the birds, as I could not hit 

 them. Suddenly a big black duck cut across the head 

 of the decoys, and, not seeing it until it had got by, I 

 threw up my gun and took a snap shot at it, and killed 

 it dead. It fell on the edge of the marsh and Gunner 

 brought it with much pride. John, too, was delighted, 

 and assured me that the shot was a good one, and that 

 I was getting onto them now. I shook my head 

 wearily, for I knew what an accident this success had 

 been. Still I presume that I was unconsciously a little 

 bit encouraged. At all events, we both kept a better 

 lookout, and a little later, when three widgeons came 

 by over the decoys, but not lowering to them, I doubled 

 on a pair with the right barrel and killed the third with 

 my left. This was a little better, of course, but still it 

 did not give me much courage. A little later, however, 

 when a pair of mallards came up the wind high up, and 

 I killed both, I began to take heart and really to feel 

 as if perhaps I could do something. The conceit was 

 quickly taken out of me, however, by three widgeons, 

 which stole in and alighted among the decoys unseen. 

 These I missed on the water with the first barrel, and 

 on the wing when they flew. They were not 25 yards 

 from me. 



It was still early in the day — only 2 o'clock — and 

 there was time yet to kill a lot of birds if they kept 

 coming and — if I could only hit them. But there did 

 not seem to be much chance of my doing that. John was 



