A NIGHT IN THE OPEN 121 



I did not know the trick this bird has when wounded 

 of trying to pluck the hunter's eye out if the hunter 

 stoops and tries to pick him up, but I did know 

 enough to catch him by his long legs, rather than by 

 his equally long neck. Swinging him over my shoulder, 

 I proudly started for the Sunday-school gathering, to 

 show my big trophy. 



It was necessary to cross a rail fence, which I es- 

 sayed to do, with the gun in the right hand and the 

 heron slung over my left shoulder, with his head hang- 

 ing down. 



He was not dead ; indeed, not by a long sight, for as 

 I was climbing over the top rail he grabbed the seat of 

 my trousers and also quite a portion of my nether 

 anatomy with his sharp bill. 



Giving a yell of pain, I dropped the gun and fell in 

 a heap on the far side of the fence, and that fall broke 

 the heron's underhold. That hold was worse to me than 

 any collar and elbow or Greco-Roman hold I have ever 

 known since. It was, however, not much of a trick to 

 take a fence rail and with it break the bird's neck, 

 and then when actually, positively sure that he was 

 really dead, I picked him up once more, and for much 

 of the balance of the day I strutted around with him 

 on my shoulder, a proud and happy boy. 



My father had the royal bird stuffed and placed in a 

 glass case, where it remained among the household 

 goods for over twoscore years. 



