74 The Life Worth Living 



that ever worried and fascinated a hunter. 

 His eye is as keen as a wild duck's, and his 

 ways past finding out. I have hunted them 

 for ten years in Virginia, and many an eve- 

 ning have I gone home with but two or three 

 birds for supper, while the sky above me 

 rang with their shouts of derision. 



I have watched them for days and weeks 

 going in thousands to a certain spot on a 

 marsh at a certain tide. I mark the spot 

 and wait ten days for the tides to get back 

 to the appointed hour. Then, all in readi- 

 ness, I sneak away an hour ahead of my 

 rival, whom I half suspect of knowing my 

 secret. 



Everything depends on the tides. By the 

 calendar, the tide should make high water 

 at sundown. If it does, and doesn't make 

 too high or too low, and the birds don't find 

 out I'm on the marsh by hearing the gun, or 

 from the report of a scout — why, then, I'll 

 get some of them. The hunting ground 



