228 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



men old enough to be his father. He is a recognized 

 authority among his chums on such sports as dog-fights 

 and pugilism, on base-ball, billiards and boating ; but 

 claims no great knowledge of the secrets of hunting 

 wildfowl. At the time we write, he is clerking in a 

 grocery store, receiving the magnificent salary of ten 

 dollars a week. He is an adept in his business, as he is 

 at everything he undertakes, and can accomplish with 

 ease the difficult task of wrapping up a dollar's worth 

 of sugar, without spilling a grain, while at the same 

 time, with one eye, he watches the boy trying to get his 

 hand in the apple barrel, and with the other, slyly winks 

 at the giggling school girls as they pass by the open door. 



The other is a young man perhaps of twenty, stalwart 

 in appearance, light hair, and honest blue eyes, one you 

 would implicitly trust. He is an apprentice, learning 

 the cigar-makers trade ; a German, who has been in this 

 country but a year or two, and who speaks English im- 

 perfectly, and who cannot resist the impulse to occasion- 

 ally throw in German words to help himself out when 

 embarrassed, or in doubt as to what he should say in 

 English. They are fast friends, their stores adjoining. 



The duck season is at hand, numerous reports of the 

 great quantity of ducks have often been told them. 

 They resolve to go hunting. The American is called 

 " Jim." This is a very simple abbreviation of his first 

 name. The German,"Hans," in Deutschland, they call 

 him " Johann." The day is set ; Jim is to furnish the 

 dog, Hans the eatables, the balance of the outfit they 

 are to rent. At the appointed hour, daylight, Hans 

 waits the coming of his friend. Jim is a trifle late, 

 caused he says by not being able to find his brother's 

 rubber boots, the brother having hidden them in atitici- 



