354 DUCK-SHOOTING. 



us gave one or the other a shot, and each could 

 mark birds approaching the other from behind. 



The morning passed rapidly away amid splendid 

 shooting, and noon found us united in my hiding- 

 place to eat a sociable meal together. During the 

 middle of the day the birds repose, and the sportsman 

 employs the time in satisfying the cravings of hun- 

 ger or even in a nap, interrupted though he may be 

 in either by an occasional whirr of wings, that, when 

 it is too late, informs him of lost opportunities. 



We talked over matters. As the day had cleared 

 off and become warm, the prospect of sport for 

 some hours at least was over, and my friend sug- 

 gested we should visit the snipe ground. To ap- 

 prove the suggestion, to push out and to ship our 

 oars, was the work of a moment, and we were 

 soon at Mud Creek bridge, a pull of about two miles 

 through an open k-ad, from which the ducks were 

 continuously springing on our approach. Having 

 anchored our boats a short distance from shore, to 

 prevent the wild hogs paying us a visit, we waded 

 to land, and substituting small shot for the heavy 

 charges in our guns, walked a few yards up the road 

 and crossed the fence. 



I had brought my setter with me, and he had- 

 proved himself a model of quietness in the boat, 

 from the bottom of which he had raised his head 

 only once all day ; when my first duck dropped he 

 rose on his haunches, and watching where it fell, 

 sniffed at it as I pushed up, and then, satisfied lie 

 had no part in such sport, lay down to sleep. 



