WILD DUCKS. 307 
“Ducks by the million, by Jiminy,” exclaimed the 
guide. ‘I tell you, gemmen, you'll have piles of shoot- 
in’ at day-break.” 
That was the very thing we were waiting for most im- 
patiently, so when the dull, gray light began to steal 
across the eastern horizon, our spirits went up wonder- 
fully, and we discoursed enthusiastically about the balmy 
air, and the luxuriance and color of the tropical scenery 
that surrounded us. 
As the gray merged into a steel-blue, and the blue into 
the roseate tints that indicated the approach of the god 
of day, the wind freshened and blew a fairly fast gale from 
the ocean. 
“T tell you, gemmen,” said the Cracker, ‘‘ you’ll have 
piles of shootin’ soon, as this wind, that I told you 
mought and moughtn’t come, will send the ducks up the 
river a-kiting, and we can jest lay into ’em like a thou- 
sand of bricks.” 
His prophesy again proved to be correct, for, in a few 
minutes, the weak squawks of a team of approaching bald- 
pates were heard, and alittle later the ducks came sail- 
ing down towards the decoys. Just as they were moment- 
arily hovering, previous to settling, the contents of ten 
barrels were poured into their midst, and twenty-seven of 
them tumbled headlong into the stream and squawked or 
floundered about in the agonies of death. The remainder 
turned, on seeing this catastrophe, and, with many a 
scream, winged their flight to the silent forest that 
stretched for miles beyond us. 
The enthusiast of the party became ecstatic at our early 
good tortune, and indulged in the wildest gambols and 
half a dozen impromptu jigs, which he had invented on 
the spur of the moment. So vehement was he in this 
display of terpsichorean agility, that one of his comrades 
hinted that he had formerly been an Irish dancing master; 
but this cynical inuendo not having the desired effect, an- 
