THE AMERICAN EIDER 377 



shafts. The few remaining stars are fast put- 

 ting out their lamps. The clamor of passing 

 flocks and the rush of hurrying wings begin to 

 make sweet music. You cease drumming on 

 your knees and thrashing your arms about in 

 windmill fashion to keep your fingers warm — 

 halt in your endless sentry march up and down 

 the narrow rock-shelf where you have tramped 

 and stamped about that the blood might not 

 freeze in your very heart, and grasp the gun 

 tightly (though you think you will be compelled 

 to use it as a club, since your fingers are so 

 numb and stiff that you can scarcely hope to 

 pull trigger) for a flock of Sea Ducks, their 

 broad front like a line of battle, are headed 

 right for your decoys! Wait a bit! Don't fire 

 yet! They are big birds and seem to be much 

 nearer than they really are, especially when 

 head on, but you may easily discover that your 

 eyes are deceiving you if you shoot now. They 

 are scarcely in gunshot yet. Now! As they 

 swing! Bang! — Bang! Bang! — Bang! A 

 mighty commotion and away goes the remnant 

 of the flock in a hurry. See, there are three big 

 fellows lying on their backs in the water with 

 feebly kicking feet in the air, another turning 



