222 



WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



velocity to be acquired is very great. After practicing 

 a while, so he feels he can do it with rapidity, let his 

 wife try it, and her first attempt will convince him how 

 exceedingly slow he* is. As the hunter sees them flying 

 over him, a variety of conflicting emotions flit through 

 his mind. He believes patience is a monument of 

 virtue, and is patient. He weakens as time passes, and 

 not one comes near enough to kill ; still they go over 

 him, chattering and whistling, or turn their heads 

 slightly and look down on him, as he feels, in derision. 

 Getting desperate he begins shooting at them ; shot 

 after shot is fired, but without effect. He gets mad, 

 and wishes he had a gun that would kill a mile no dif- 

 ference what it weighed. But his desperation and 

 disgust nerve him to greater deeds of valor, and by 

 shooting from 16 to 20 feet ahead of a flock, he scratches 

 one down, wing tipped. No sooner does the bird start 

 to leave the flock, than the hunter starts for it like a 

 race-horse. When he gets where the bird fell, he finds 

 feathers but no bird. About this time the air becomes 

 blue, and a heavy sulphuric vapor permeates the sur- 

 roundings. He is out of breath from running. Accident- 

 ally looking back, he sees a large flock of pin-tails swoop 

 right over his blind, not fifty feet high, the best op- 

 portunity of the day. He feels he could have killed 

 half a dozen had he been there. Such luck ! flow he 

 wishes he had not chased this crawling cripple. He 

 sees the grass move slightly, pounces down upon it, 

 and drags out the lost bird; clutches it around the 

 neck, gives it a preliminary squeeze, while the poor 

 bird makes a choking quack, then gazes at him in as- 

 tonishment and affright. The hunter feels the impos- 

 sibility of wreaking all his pent up revenge on this lone 



