256 FEATHERED GAME 
just as soon as you can get there,’’ says one of 
these in a confidential tone, and off you go to 
get gun and shells ready for a trip down the 
bay. As fast as your horse can take you you 
go to your friend’s home by the sea. It is a 
long six miles through the deep and clinging 
mud—a longer six miles to-day than ever, you 
think—but you arrive at last, your poor nag 
steaming from his jog. Your friend is impa- 
tiently waiting, pacing his porch, spyglass in 
hand, his attention divided between yourself 
and that long black line a mile-and-a-half away 
upon the water. He evidently expected you. 
‘‘Huh! Here, are you? How long does it take 
that plug of yours to travel six miles of good 
roads? I thought you were never coming!’’ 
Even as he speaks and, grinning welcome, 
grasps your hand, with his other paw, glass and 
all, he points away to where the unsuspecting 
birds are riding at ease. You seize the ’scope 
the while he complains at such delay, to feast 
your eyes upon that ravishing sight. A dozen 
at least! Yes, twenty big ‘‘honkers’’ resting 
and pruning their feathers in a security which 
you intend shall be brief. Your horse is soon 
cared for, then,—‘‘ Come, now, how long are you 
