80 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



oar, guided the boat in open channel, or amid thick and 

 overhanging branches and bended trees, was forcing her 

 swiftly along. The water was high, and boomed merrily 

 along through the overflowed lands and between the 

 fallen trees. Occasionally, through the trees at a dis- 

 ' tance, in small open places, we could see little flocks of 

 blue-bills, swimming carelessly on the placid water ; 

 then again, on the narrow necks of land that had es- 

 caped the overflow, pin-tails would sit on the alert, 

 with their .tall necks stretched up, making a marked 

 contrast to the pairs of mallards we could at times see 

 as they drifted along the brush and willows lazily pick- 

 ing off the buds ; or, gracefully tipping up their plump 

 bodies, while searching for the appetizing acorn. Now 

 and then the faint report of a gun would reach our 

 ears, frequently two reports in quick succession, show- 

 ing that some hunter having braved the storm was 

 reaping the benefit his pluck had earned. 



We were now about three-quarters of a mile in the 

 woods, and in the blinding snow could see the almost 

 constant flight of birds, some coming against the strong 

 wind, scarcely able to buffet it, while others, just out 

 of gun-shot, were allowing themselves to be driven be- 

 fore the wind at the rate of sixty miles an hour. I had 

 called Harry's attention to these, and incited by the 

 frequent jumping up of mallards all around us, he was 

 getting the duck-fever pretty bad. We landed on 

 a ridge not more than thirty feet wide, and then 

 we consulted and made our observations. Harry 

 thought we ought to stop here. In his inexperienced 

 mind he could see but one thing, ducks. He did not 

 stop to think that it was one thing to shoot, another to 

 retrieve them, for on each side of us was deep running 



