130 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



Thought the others would come in? Perhaps they 

 would and perhaps they wouldn't. I have waited a 

 good many times myself, refraining to shoot, expecting 

 a better shot, and getting none at all, and experience 

 has taught me that in the long run the best way is to 

 kill a duck when it gets within thirty to thirty-five 

 yards, no matter what you may see in expectation. 

 Of course it would have been" very nice to have waited 

 and killed three out of the four ; but suppose they hadn't 

 come ? Would have felt pretty cheap, wouldn't we ? 

 But here it is noon ; we will go over on that ridge, 

 make some coffee, and have lunch." We go, leaving 

 our decoys in the water. 



Soon coffee is made, and sitting on our rubber coats 

 we are enjoying ourselves, as only hungry hunters can. 

 As you face the north, I notice you gaze idly on 

 those hills so near us, then turn your eyes indifferently 

 away. Nothing particularly interesting about them, 

 is there ? Simply bluffs, grass and scraggy trees, an 

 elevated point overlooking the surrounding country. 

 You see this, and your curiosity is satisfied, your in- 

 terest dies out. Let me tell you a little about those 

 hills, where the cattle are so peaceably grazing to-day. 

 Some years ago, they were the rendezvous of the most 

 desperate gang of horse-thieves and murderers that 

 ever infested the West. It was from this vicinity they 

 sallied forth, bent on rapine and murder. ' It is only 

 thirty miles below here where they murdered old man 

 Davenport in his own house. On these hill-tops, as late 

 as 1832, the Sac and Fox Indians held their councils of 

 war; here, where from their elevated positions, they 

 could command a view up and down the broad Miss- 

 issippi River. It was on those bluffs that Black Hawk, 



