260 WINTER PICTURES. 



and skimmed the water, with my eye. The duck was 

 swimming about just beyond the decoys, apparently 

 apprehensive that she was intruding upon the society 

 of her betters. She would approach a little, and 

 then, as the stiff, aristocratic decoys made no sign of 

 welcome or recognition, she would sidle off again. 

 " Who are they, that they should hold themselves so 

 loftily and never condescend to notice a forlorn 

 duck ? " I imagined her saying. Should 1 spring up 

 and show my hand and demand her surrender ? It 

 was clearly my duty to do so. I wondered if the 

 boys were looking from shore, for the fog had lifted 

 a little. But I must act, or the duck would be off. 

 I began to turn slowly in my sepulchre and to gather 

 up my benumbed limbs ; I then made a rush and got 

 up, and had a fairly good shot as the duck flew across 

 my bows, but I failed to stop her. A man in the 

 woods in the line of my shot cried out, angrily, " Stop 

 shooting this way ! " 



I laid down again and faced the sun, that had now 

 burnt its way through the fog, till I was nearly blind, 

 but no more ducks decoyed, and I called out to be 

 relieved. 



With our one duck, but with many pleasant re- 

 membrances, we returned to Washington that after- 

 noon. 



