258 Sporting Sketches 



sound, a droning of many duck voices, blent with 

 the fluttering of many wings and the squattering of 

 feeding fowl. My heart thrilled, for I knew that a 

 mighty host of web-footed merry-makers was con- 

 cealed just ahead. A moment later the cover in 

 front suddenly thinned, and I came near yelling 

 with astonishment. About an acre of open space 

 seemed to be covered with a live and exceedingly 

 downy quilt of a most amazing pattern, and its 

 nearest edge was not ten yards away. Perhaps no- 

 where else in the world could such a picture of wild 

 life be seen, but the view was brief. " Me-ak ! " 

 shouted one horrified fowl, and erstwhile careless 

 heads bristled up in every direction like so much 

 stubble. Then with a roar worthy of a lightning 

 express, the feathered host sprang into the air in 

 such close order that the sharp biff-baff of clashing 

 wings was distinctly audible. For a moment it 

 looked as if the entire pond had gone up, but Bat- 

 teese's gasping " Shoot shoot ! " caused me to re- 

 member the excuse for the intrusion. " Shoot ! " 

 almost prayed Batteese, and as the feathered canopy 

 ripped apart and left one great drake exactly in the 

 centre of the tear, the first barrel did its work on 

 the single. And of all that storm of life the second 

 shot stopped but three, and one of those happened 

 to fly into it fifty yards away. And poor Batteese, 

 to say the least, " Heem ver sad," as the way 

 he drove that canoe through the reeds rather sug- 

 gested. No more clever work for him that day. 

 What he wanted was to get home and smoke and 

 ponder upon the bitterness of his lot which con- 

 demned him to daily association with a duffer who 



