THE AMERICAN EIDER 377 
shafts. The few remaining stars are fast put- 
ting out their lamps. The clamor of passing 
flocks and the rush of hurrying wings begin to 
make sweet music. You cease drumming on 
your knees and thrashing your arms about in 
windmill fashion to keep your fingers warm— 
halt in your endless sentry march up and down 
the narrow rock-shelf where you have tramped 
and stamped about that the blood might not 
freeze in your very heart, and grasp the gun 
tightly (though you think you will be compelled 
to use it as a club, since your fingers are so 
numb and stiff that you can scarcely hope to 
pull trigger) for a flock of Sea Ducks, their 
broad front like a line of battle, are headed 
right for your decoys! Waita bit! Don’t fire 
yet! They are big birds and seem to be much 
nearer than they really are, especially when 
head on, but you may easily discover that your 
eyes are deceiving you if you shoot now. They 
are scarcely in gunshot yet. Now! As they 
swing! Bang!—Bang! Bang!—Bang! A 
mighty commotion and away goes the remnant 
of the flock in a hurry. See, there are three big 
fellows lying on their backs in the water with 
feebly kicking feet in the air, another turning 
