450 DUCK SHOOTING. 



corn, fruits of the last overland trip, sit on the ice 

 preening themselves and sleeping the time away. Their 

 loud calls vibrate and course through the still woods, 

 carrying welcome music to the alert ears of the hunter. 



He marks the direction, and stealthily proceeds to 

 locate them. Then some noisy duck, having partaken 

 too freely of corn, and feeling the effects of its fermen- 

 tation, raises her voice so loudly that he marks the spot 

 where they are located. He shows his open palm to his 

 dog, and thus conveys to him warning for great cau- 

 tion. The dog understands this signal and crouches 

 close to the earth. Those two friends stand silently 

 behind a projecting tree, the gunner debating in his 

 mind whether to step boldly out and rout the birds or 

 attempt by crawling to get a sitting shot. He decides 

 on the former, and when he steps out in open sight is 

 seen, and, with a grand roar that fills the woods with 

 its volume, the birds arise in fright, and in pairs and 

 flocks, both great and small, fly away. The dog looks 

 askance at his master, questioning the propriety of rout- 

 ing such an immense flock without firing a shot, but a 

 reassuring pat on the head and he silently acquiesces in 

 the judgment of his master. 



The ducks are loath to leave a place like this, and 

 soon begin to return — they will not keep out. Coolly 

 the hunter knocks them right and left ; the dog is in an 

 ecstasy of delight. Constant exercise has caused his 

 blood to rush through his veins. He comes and goes 

 in and out of the water, his brown coat glistening with 

 ice, forming brilliant beads in the sunlight; then he 



