216 



WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



surface, while they leave in their wake tiny waves that 

 soon dissolve on the smooth bosom of the lake. We 

 creep continuously along. The boat scarcely moves. 

 It does seem, as if we ought to get up ducks here ; 

 everything is favorable to it, and Aha ! We both saw 

 it at the same time, down at our left in that thin grass a 

 head arose, but for an instant, then sunk down. We 

 know there are ducks there. We both sink lower into 

 the boat ; you lean forward, peering through the top of 

 the muskrat blind, where we made a slight peep-hole 

 with bended rushes. The boat goes a trifle faster. Right 

 in front of us the mud-hens swim, just keeping clear of 

 the bow. The ducks are on a narrow ridge of the lake, 

 just out of gun shot from either shore. Look ! Look ! 

 Feast your eyes on the heads and necks to be seen 

 through the straggling grass, the pin-tails, and widgeon 

 and a wild lot they are. The most difficult bird in the 

 world to scull. They are looking at us, all suspicion. 

 They are wondering what this muskrat house, so far 

 out in the deep water is doing. Hear them chatter ! 

 We are about a hundred yards away and must now 

 barely move the boat. They don't act right, are un- 

 easy and I'm afraid they will There ! Just as I ex- 

 pected ! All this work for nothing ! Away they go ! 

 How we wish we were near them. I do like to shoot 

 pin-tails, because " Sh down ! down ! Don't you see 

 him, standing up right at the point where the others 

 flew from." Strange he didn't notice you when you 

 raised up to see those flying away. Isn't he a beauty ! 

 A male pin-tail. How he stands up, watching the float. 

 Just look at his elegant position, standing as he is. He 

 is frightened. Still, his curiosity has gotten the better 

 of him ; his long slender neck, and clean-cut body, with 



