THE CANADA GOOSE 207 
going to stare? Everything is ready. Let’s 
move!’’ A hurried gathering of war material 
and you make for the shore where waits the 
float. With a piece of ice on her long, low bow 
and a rim of snow along her gunwales your 
craft, showing not more than six or eight inches 
above water, is hardly to be told from an ice- 
cake at fifty yards distance. You take the oars 
and drive the boat over the waves, perhaps with 
a touch of selfish joy that there is no other craft 
in sight. A mile away from the geese your 
friend says, ‘‘ Now, pull in your oars and let me 
seull. JI don’t dare risk rowing any further.’’ 
So you settle yourself down contentedly to let 
this willing worker toil for you. Down you 
go, laying your lazy length in the bottom of the 
float, with not even the tip of your nose to show 
above the gunwale, your head upon your com- 
rade’s knees, and as the spring sunshine plays 
upon your face you think goose-shooting is not 
such hard work after all. Your spirit is lulled 
into a deep content and restfulness by the mo- 
notonous, muffled ‘‘bump-bump—bump-bump’”’ 
of the sculling oar, and even the muttered curse 
of your companion, whose wrist begins to tire, 
is not altogether able to dispel your happiness. 
