THE APPEAL OF THE SPORT 



but you mustn't get so excited this hot August weather, 

 or you'll have a sunstroke." 



"Hang the sunstroke," exclaimed Ned, "I'm awful 

 glad you brought me in here. You said I'd get the 

 Wood Duck, but I'd tried so many times I was afraid 

 I'd miss it again. This is certainly a dandy place, and 

 I'm coming here every day for awhile. But when is 

 the best time of day for ducks? I want to see the 

 whole flock of Wood Ducks, and of course the Black 

 Ducks, though I saw some of those fellows last year." 



"You would be liable to start them up at any time, 

 while they are resting and sunning themselves in the 

 swamp," I told him, "but at dusk they begin to fly 

 around to feed, and dawn is another good time, too. 

 But it would be hard for you to get here so early, and 

 the grass would be drenching wet." 



"Hard!" he cried. "You're a great man to talk so, 

 for I've heard you tell of your getting up at two and 

 driving twenty miles before light to shoot ducks in the 

 fall. Don't you think I've got some sporting blood as 

 well as yourself, even if I don't murder them the way 

 you used to?" 



"Well, now, you're getting on to a rather delicate 

 subject," I replied. "I know you're an early bird, and 

 I'm glad you are an enthusiast, and that we both know 

 how to find more fun with the birds than by killing 

 them. Of course there's nothing wrong in shooting 

 lawful game in moderation, but it's simply this, that 

 the new way is so much better than the old that we 



