OH, SHOOT! 



prehensions were realized. The message was 

 from my wife, but beyond that fact there was 

 nothing in its favor, for it read: 



Your secretary has forged a number of your checks and 

 disappeared. Total amount unknown, as checks are still 

 coming in. Presume you gave him keys to wine cellar, for 

 they, too, are missing. Wire instructions quick. Am ill, 

 but stay, have a good time, and don't worry. 



I stared, numb and horror-stricken, at the 

 sheet until I was roused by a mighty whir of 

 rushing pinions. Those ducks had stood it as 

 long as possible and were decoying to me, 

 sitting up. Through force of habit my pal- 

 sied fingers clutched at my gun, but, although 

 the birds were back-pedaling almost within 

 reach, I scored five misses. Who can shoot 

 straight with amount of loss unknown and 

 certain precincts unheard from? Not I. 

 Those broadbills looked like fluttering bank 

 books. 



And the keys to the wine cellar missing! 

 That precious private stock, laid in for purely 

 medicinal purposes, ravaged, kidnaped! A 

 hoarse shout burst from my throat; I leaped 

 to my feet and waved frantically at the de- 

 parting boatsman, but he mistook my cries 

 of anguish for jubilation at the results of my 



36 



