INTER-OCEAN HUNTING TALES 



every species of web-footed fowl on the 

 prairie. When the gray mist had swallowed 

 the black mass, a pleasant sight welcomed our 

 eyes. The ground was plentifully covered 

 with limp forms, a handsome tribute to the 

 prowess of our guns. The beam of joy on 

 Legrand's weatherbeaten face satisfied me 

 that so far we had not been unduly wasteful 

 of ammunition. Fearing lest there might be 

 some lingering doubt in his mind on the sub- 

 ject, I sought to console him with the reflec- 

 tion that I still had four hundred and ninety- 

 six shells left. 



No time was lost in collecting the game. 

 I stuffed the big pockets of my hunting coat 

 with teal and brant. Legrand fastened them 

 to the fringes of his jacket until he was 

 almost covered with the dark bodies of brant 

 and the beautifully colored teal. I warned 

 Legrand to kill every bird he gathered, but 

 he was careless in carrying out my sugges- 

 tion. On the way back to the lodge I heard 

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