paraMse Circle 



uttered, seemed to pry the bird's stout 

 beak open and shake every feather on its 

 back. This was repeated at irregular in- 

 tervals. Meantime my desire to shoot 

 increased, in some sort of uncontrollable 

 ratio, until it became an ecstatic frenzy. 

 I had an arrow across my bow and nocked 

 on the string. I took aim at half-draw, 

 but withheld the shot. I knew that I 

 could hit the saucy and atrociously daring 

 thing; but I could not afford to lose an 

 arrow; and besides, what good would the 

 rail do me if I did kill it? There it would 

 be in the middle of the mud-pond, and — 

 But I could bear it no longer. Just one 

 arrow — what did I care ? So I braced my- 

 self and drew. Slowly the shaft slipped 

 across my bending bow until the feather 

 reached a point below my chin, and in a 

 line with my right eye, while the metal 

 head touched my left forefinger-knuckle. 

 Then the shot. It was beautiful and 

 true — but not a hit; only 'a whack in the 

 mud, and a spattering of it all around 

 where the arrow entered with a dull, half- 

 liquid chug about five inches to the left of 



48 



