THE BRASS-EYED DUCK. 227 



A hen is a proud mother even with one 

 chick; well this was a transported one with 

 seven. She swam through the midst of them, 

 around them, away from them and toward them, 

 exhibiting the utmost delight. Finally she led 

 them in toward the shore, the shadows of the 

 woods shutting them out from further observa- 

 tion. While daily visiting my nets about the 

 lake, I often encountered the brood, or saw them 

 at a short distance and they continued to inter- 

 est me. 



One day the number of ducklings appeared 

 fewer than ought to be and on counting them I 

 found there were only five. Next day this was 

 reduced to four, and a few days after, when 

 next I saw them, there remained only three. 

 However, the mystery of their disappearance 

 was made clear to me on that same day, for 

 while trolling past the ducks' feeding grounds a 

 big maskinonge struck the hooks savagely. 



Being alone in the frail and small canoe I 

 had the utmost difficulty to successfully play 

 and kill him, but was amply paid, for on clean- 

 ing the big fish we found in its maw one of my 

 young ducks. 



Thus was their mysterious disappearance ex- 

 plained, this, or some other large fish, was ac- 

 countable for the brood's diminution. 



While on the subject of the brass-eye I would 



