RED-BREASTED MERGANSER 411 
friends with wings stiffly set and necks out- 
stretched. In this strange light they look as 
large as geese. Now is the time! As they 
bunch and wheel, convinced of the cheat, let go 
at them with both barrels, and in answer to the 
sudden roar of your discharge down go the 
splashing forms of dead and wounded birds 
among the motionless decoys. While the boom 
of your gun goes echoing about from cape 
to promontory in circuit of the bay as if 
a battery was stationed on every headland, you 
are hurrying down to the boat to gather up the 
spoil. You pat yourself on the back—(mentally, 
of course,)—and think, ‘‘What a streak of 
shooting I have developed!’’ when, hello! 
Only one bird! Ah, there is one more swim- 
ming away and here another, and popping sud- 
denly out of the depths still another, but most of 
them active and doing their best to put a safe 
distance between your dangerous company and 
themselves, swimming with their bodies half 
submerged and a watchful eye behind them. 
You have reloaded and are now tugging as for 
your life at the oars to gather in those that seem 
to be the most active, and so pass by the dead as 
they will keep until your return. But you don’t 
