SHOOTING FROM A HOUSE-BOAT. 445 



then it is a pleasure to see the careful way in which the 

 decoys are handled. 



No tossing now. Instead, a decoy is quietly pushed 

 through between the cedars on the opposite side of the 

 blind, and quacking loudly with a sense of freedom, it 

 hurries to its chums, who are already disporting them- 

 selves about the little platform of this tethered occu- 

 pant. With bated breath we peep through the boughs 

 at the approaching fowl. Not a sound is made by us as 

 they come in; a look is all that is required. It says: 

 "Are you ready?" A wink answers "Yes," and rising, 

 we cut loose. 



Not waiting to see what execution has been done, 

 each grasps a spare gun, and again we stop a couple as 

 they cross in wild affright, "doin' stunts," says Elmer. 

 With the clearing away of the fog of burned powder, 

 we see eleven ducks scattered here and there waiting to 

 be gathered, and wading out we attend to them. 



But what of the live decoys ? During all this excite- 

 ment they have been huddled in a compact bunch near 

 the little platform and are now unconcernedly swim- 

 ming about among the dead and dying. 



I go to the blind, raise the sliding door of the coop, 

 and Elmer walking behind them, our duck assistants 

 swim to the gangway and waddle up into the coop in a 

 matter-of-fact manner that is laughable. 



Fully plumed for flight, not hampered in any way, 

 the idea that they are free to go never seems to enter 

 their silly heads. Once in a while they will leave for 

 parts unknown, but this seldom occurs. 



