64: GUN", ROD, AND SADDLE. 



sweep round to find from whence comes the danger, 

 and, disliking the neighborhood, start for parts un- 

 known and less to be dreaded. 



As I hastily sent home my Avads over my shot, 

 keeping an eye all the time to windward, what is 

 that ever-changing cloud I see, reminding one of 

 the reflected light that glances off the backs of a 

 flight of gray plovers ? By Jove, they are blue- 

 winged teal ! On, on they come, occasionally rising 

 or swooping downward as fancy directs. In a 

 moment they will be here for your life don't move ; 

 even depress your eyes so that the rim of your hat 

 will prevent the leaders seeing them. At last they 

 are within range, and each barrel's course is marked 

 by a lane of birds, whom the shot has caused to 

 alter their forward movement. As night approaches, 

 the pintail and butter ducks put in an appearance, 

 and without cessation your gun plays its part, the 

 pile of game at your feet is becoming enormous, and 

 Beau is never idle for a moment. As darkness 

 increases, you think of going home, still linger for 

 one or two more shots. Now you can only see the 

 birds on the wing that are between your sight and 

 some clear spot in the sky, but around you on the 

 water are thousands. As every arrival is greeted 



