DAYS AMONG THE DUCKS, 97 



dance on his burnished head that it seemed un- 

 necessary to aim very far ahead of him. Had 

 the sun dropped from heaven I could hardly have 

 been more surprised than I was to see that duck 

 bound skyward with thumping wings at the re- 

 port of the gun. 



But there was little time to reflect on the cause 

 of the miss, for another wood-duck came glisten- 

 ing over the sunlit reeds. I aimed at what 

 seemed the right spot ahead of him and, with 

 more confidence than ever, pulled the trigger. 

 Yet at the sound of each barrel every shining 

 feather sailed along as smoothly as gossamer 

 thread on the evening breeze. 



Scarcely had I loaded, when like a charge of 

 cavalry in bright uniform, with long green necks, 

 and heads gleaming like so many couched lances, 

 a flock of mallards streamed along the water in 

 front of me. Though I could see four or five 

 heads in line as I pulled the trigger, but one 

 duck fell ; and as the rest, unharmed, climbed the 

 air with throbbing wings and I fired again at one 

 of the leaders, he parted from the flock with 

 wavering flight, hung high in air for a second, 

 then, folding his wings, descended with a splash 



