Wood-Duck and, Wood- Duck S booting 215 



Thirty yards away half-a-dozen flappers were pat- 

 tering across the stream, and the way we hit the 

 water was a caution. We returned to the surface, 

 going at full speed and halfway across as it 

 proved just far enough to head off the last duck. 

 The others no sooner reached the bank than they 

 sprinted to cover like so many Bob Whites. Be- 

 cause wise men garbed only in freckles and sunburn 

 never chase through rough cover, those ducks were 

 safe ; but not so the lone one. 



" Give it to him ! " I yelled, and we foamed in 

 pursuit. 



The unfortunate duck didn't know enough to go 

 back to the bank it had left, or its sole desire was to 

 follow its kin, for it refused to turn. Kit dashed 

 straight for it, while I edged nearer the desired 

 bank. The duck scuttled ahead a few yards, then 

 dived. Instantly I went under a few feet, then 

 paused and stared toward the light. After half a 

 minute's wait, I rose hunting air, and within a yard 

 of the duck. A wild grab missed by a narrow mar- 

 gin, and again I went under and waited. The duck 

 as it vanished was headed from me, but I knew their 

 tricks. Within thirty seconds or so, as I stared 

 toward the light, a long black thing hove in sight, 

 headed so as to pass directly over my face. I could 

 distinctly see the head, neck, half-spread flapper 

 wings, and the kicking feet. It was not travelling 

 very fast, and this meant seriously, mind you ! 

 I thrust up my hand and grabbed the neck. Before 

 I got to the surface I learned something about wood- 

 ducks' claws they can scratch like fury; but I 

 had the drake, for such it proved to be. Kit's first 



