220 WILD 8POKT8 Iff THE SOUTH. 



" Yah ! ha ! ya ! Maussa ; good shot. Did you ebber ? 

 Well, now, I give up dat beats dis child !" 



"We paddled on, and found the first duck dead, and 

 and the second with both wings broken, and easily 

 secured. While loading, four ducks came flying over 

 from the direction of the other boats. I hastily poured 

 in some loose shot, and crouching down in the canoe, 

 capped my gun, while I watched the birds approach, and 

 when they were so near I could see the mottling on their 

 breasts, arose suddenly to my feet. Scared by my sud- 

 den appearance, they breasted the air, swerving off to 

 the right and left. Ho ! what fair shots ! I could have 

 killed them with a pistol. The first ban-el brought two, 

 the second one, and the other bird departed sadly 

 frightened. 



Thus we passed on, getting fair shots every fifty yards 

 at small bunches of ducks that arose from the little 

 lagoons, and an occasional long shot at some passing bird 

 that had been frightened from his proper feeding-ground 

 by the incursion of the hunters. 



At the same time that the game was abundant, the 

 scenery through which its pursuit was leading us was 

 strikingly peculiar. The level waste of sedge extended 

 beyond the vision, waving in the wind. The constant 

 opening and closing of watery passages, the little reed- 

 locked lakes, the tortuous coiirse we were obliged to 

 follow, the sameness of the grouping of the reeds and 

 little islets, repeated over and over again till the mind 

 was all afloat as to locality and distance ; the weird trees 



