THE PIKE. 3/1 



excited. She hustled the young birds up to the bank of the 

 stream, but too late! Before she could get them all out, the 

 wicked eyes and prominent snout of a big Pike came to the 

 surface and sucked down another little birdling of the flock. 

 I rose in the brush that hid me, and saw the cunning face 

 of the Pike. And if ever a fish laughed, he did! The 

 mother bird saw me too, and hustled the remainder of her 

 family into the rushes. 



We were raising some young ducks at the time; a fancy 

 breed; but they had been hatched by a hen. I predicted 

 they would be Pike-food before they were a week old. The 

 old hen strutted around, proud of her family, but one day 

 she led them into the meadow through which the tail-race of 

 the mill ran a stream of w ater five feet deep and the home 

 of the Pike and the Pickerel. 



Hearing the cackling of the hen, I ran out and found the 

 ducklings in the water, and jumping into the boat, drove them 

 out, after a long chase. Once or twice I saw the sharp 

 dash of one of the Esocidae after them, but I got them in 

 safely. Mother promised me something handsome, if I could 

 keep them out of the water for a few days, until they got big 

 enough to go with the old ducks. Coming out of the mill 

 the next day, I saw the ducklings paddling around in the 

 rushes, and the old ducks near them, quacking and calling as 

 if something were wrong. 



I dashed through the hall of the house, catching up my 

 sixteen-gauge single gun as I went, banging doors behind me 

 and all the time vowing dire vengeance on any specimen of 

 the Esocidae that might show his long face. 



Just as I jumped into the boat, after counting them, I 

 heard the minature, peeping "qu-a-a" of a duckling, but it 

 was never finished! It disappeared under the water, and I 

 saw the broad tail of a big Pike as he swung out into deeper 

 water. Of eleven ducklings five went this way; the others 

 we saved until they could take care of themselves. 



