SHOOTING MALLARDS FHOM A SCULL BOAT. 65 



your gun is grabbed quick as thought, you draw your- 

 self closely down in the bottom of the boat, and scarce- 

 ly breathe. It's all right ! He hasn't seen you ; but 

 comes slowly along, his great gray body, conspicuous in 

 the light of the setting sun. Steadily and regularly, 

 his wide wings work up and down. He's over you ! 

 Coolly and calmly you rise to a sitting position. You 

 draw aim on that black head, so plainly marked with a 

 broad band of white ; fire ! and with a last expiring"honk," 

 a Canada goose lies dead before you. A thrilling sense 

 of pleasure darts through you ; the tired feeling is gone. 

 You are filled with new vigor ; for you feel that at the 

 last moment, at the opportune time, you have crowned 

 a perfect day's sport with the most longed-for dessert. 



The sun has gone down, the twilight is beginning to 

 appear in the East ; the shooting has ceased, the sky is 

 brilliantly reflected in the west by the slow retreating 

 sun ; then it grows dim, a gray film spreads all around 

 us. We start for home. 



" Now came still evening on, and twilight gray 

 Had in her sombre livery all things clad; 

 Silence accompanied, for beast and bird 

 They to their grassy couch, these to their nests 

 Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale." 



The dark horizon is relieved of its blackness by the 

 still darker line of the island trees. Stars begin to 

 creep out from the distant sky, twinkling at you merri- 

 ly ; then one shoots swiftly with flashing tail across the 

 bosom of the broad sky. The boat seems to almost fly 

 past receding banks and trees. We are now at the last 

 island, called the " Tow Head," just four miles from 

 home. Deep bluffs extend along both sides of the river, 



separating Iowa and Illinois. Fire off your gun ! Why ? 



5 



