WARWICK WOODLANDS. lt)U 



ways; and arter I'd pulled half a moment I hard him 

 plump down into the creek with a splash, and the water 

 sparkled up like a fountain where he fell. So then I didn't 

 wait to load, but ran along the bank as hard as I could 

 stride it, and when I'd got down to the spot, I tell you, 

 little Dash had got two on 'em out afore I came, and was 

 in with a third. Well, sich a cuttin' and a splashin' as 

 there was you never did see, none on you — I guess, for 

 sartin — leastwise I niver did. I'd killed, you see, the 

 drake and two ducks, dead at the first fire, but three was 

 only wounded, wing-tipped, and leg-broken, and I can't 

 tell you what all. It was all of nine o'clock at night, and 

 dark as all out doors, afore I gathered them three ducks, 

 but I did gather 'em; Lord, boys, why I'd stayed till 

 mornin' but I'd a got them, sarten. Well, the drake I 

 killed flyin' I couldn't find him that night, no how, for 

 the stream swept him down, and I hadn't got no guide to 

 go by, so I let him go then, but I was up next mornin' 

 bright and airly, and started up the stream clean from 

 the bridge here, up through Garry's backside, and my 

 boghole, and so on along the meadows to Aunt Sally's 

 run — and looked in every willow bush that dammed the 

 waters back, like, and every bunch of weeds, and brier- 

 brake, all the way, and sure enough I found him, he'd 

 been killed dead, and floated down the crick, and then the 

 stream had washed him up into a heap of broken sticks 

 and briers, and when the waters fell, for there had been a 

 little freshet, they left him there breast uppermost — and 

 I was glad to find him — for I think. Archer, as that shot 

 was the nicest, prettiest, etamal, darndest, long, good 

 shot, I iver did make, anyhow; and it was so dark I 

 couldn't see him." 



"A sweet shot, Tom," responded Forester, "a sweet 

 pretty shot, if there had only been one word of truth in 

 it, which there is not — don't answer me, you old thief — 

 shut up instantly, and get your traps; for we've done 

 feeding, and you've done lying, for the present, at least I 

 hope so — and now we'll out, and see whether you've 

 poached up all the game in the country." 



"Well, it be gettin' late for sartain," answered Tom, 

 "and that'll save your little wax skin for the time; but 



