LIFE DECOYS. 529 



Down toward the woods the path leads. Nothing 

 has been heard save the distant crowing of sleepy 

 cocks, but now a new sound greets us, the cheerful 

 quacking of my faithful decoy ducks. 



We hasten into the pines and over a noiseless 

 carpet of dry needles. How dark it is. A rustle in the 

 brush and a faint streak, which show we have waked 

 a rabbit, and a belated flock of robins make the air hum 

 as they spring from a birch tree above our heads. 



Cautiously we creep out on to the point, sheltered 

 on both sides by walls of brush. Ahead of us are the 

 stand and coops, and as we come in sight, a watchful 

 old drake sees us and sends out a ringing call. In- 

 stantly a chorus of duck music from out on the water 

 fills the whole air, and we walk boldly ahead, past the 

 coops and into the stand, knowing that no wild birds 

 can hear us through all that racket. 



Remove your hat and peer between the branches. 

 Out there on the dark water float the bunches of 

 wooden ducks, while in the shallow water along the 

 beach the live decoys swim and quack. Count them 

 all carefully. To the left there is a flock of fourteen, 

 where there should be but nine, and even as you look, 

 five silent shapes detach themselves from the rest and 

 glide out in front without a ripple, and as if moved 

 by some mysterious power. 



Caution is now the word. Against the paling lean 

 three grim sentinels; one an 8-gauge, one a 10 and 

 one a Winchester pump. But do not reach so ner- 

 vously for your gun. It is always ready loaded, and 



