THE DROWNED LANDS. 227 



" Doctor, try a piece of hot venison steak, or some 

 cold bar ?' 



" No bear for me ; I would be thinking all the tune 

 about his ugly teeth when he was shot." 



" It is not his teeth, but my own, I am afraid of," said 

 Miss Jackson, laughing ; " give me some corn-bread, if 

 you please, Mike." 



" What are we to do with all these ducks ?" said the 

 Doctor ; " we can never eat them." 



" Yourn ?" asked Mike. 



A laugh. 



" No, ours ; those defunct, and those that are to be." 



" Never fear, a camp of fourteen people requires some- 

 thing more than Indian com." 



" "What are you toasting there before the fire, Mike ?" 



" Breast of crane." 



" Let me try a piece !" asked Lou. 



" Sartin ; it's better en deer's meat," he replied, hand- 

 ing over a strip on the end of his toasting-stick. 



" See de ducks !" exclaimed the negroes, less busy 

 than we with their dinner, as a long train of ducks camo 

 floating over, pencilling the clear sky. 



" Those are mallards," said Jackson. 



" How can you tell so far off, father ?" 



" By the shape and color, I think ; I can hardly tell 

 how. They would be black duck, if they were not 

 lighter in complexion. Am I not right, Mike ?" 



" Reckon," replied Mike, following the passing cloud 

 with his eye till they faded away, and then continued, 



