48 TRAVELS ON THE AMAZON. \Septembet > 



We went to the end of the lake, which was about a mile 

 long, and then returned to the place where we had embarked. 

 I had shot a kingfisher, and was loading my gun, when 

 Alexander shot at a small coot or rail, and having a large 

 charge, the shock threw me off my balance, and to save myself 

 I dropped my gun into the water and very nearly swamped 

 the canoe. I thought my shooting for this voyage was all 

 over ; but, luckily, the water was only three or four feet deep, 

 and we soon hooked the gun up. I employed the rest of the 

 morning in taking off the locks, and by careful cleaning and 

 oiling got all right again. 



We went on with a fair wind for a few hours, when two of 

 our men proposed taking the montaria to go and shoot ducks 

 at a place near, where they abounded ; so Mr. B. and myself 

 agreed to go with them, while Mr. Leavens proceeded a mile 

 or two on, to get dinner ready and wait for us. We had 

 about half a mile of paddling to reach the shore, then half a 

 mile of walking over a sandy beach, when our Indians plunged 

 into the forest along a narrow path, we following in silence. 

 About a mile more brought us to some open ground, where 

 there was abundance of fine grass and scattered clumps of 

 low trees and shrubs, among which were many pretty flowers. 

 We walked for a mile through this kind of country, along a 

 track which was often quite imperceptible to us, till at length 

 we reached an extensive morass covered with aquatic plants, 

 with some clumps of bushes and blackened clumps of trees. 



Our Indians, without saying a word, plunged in up to their 

 knees, and waded after the ducks, which we could see at a 

 distance, with egrets and other aquatic birds. As we could 

 do nothing on shore, we followed them, floundering about in 

 mud and water, among immersed trees and shrubs, and 

 tangled roots of aquatic plants, feeling warm and slimy, as if 

 tenanted by all sorts of creeping things. The ducks were far 

 from easy to get at, being very wild and shy. After one or 

 two ineffectual long shots, I saw one sitting on the top of a 

 stump, and by creeping cautiously along under cover of some 

 bushes, got within shot and fired. The bird flew away, I 

 thought unhurt, but soon fell into the water, where I picked it 

 up dead. It had been shot through the head, and flown, I 

 suppose, in the same manner that fowls will run after being 

 decapitated. 



