THE COMMON WILD DUCK 195 



been a coyman ; it would have been an impossi- 

 bility. That very peculiar race of beings, now fast 

 going out with their decoys, are as a rule most 

 " owdaciously cantankerous." Their whole moral 

 and physical being was centred in ducks, and ducks 

 alone. I am writing from the life. There is only 

 one way to get in a coyman's good graces, and that 

 I will keep to myself. 



In hard weather they had to be up all night, 

 breaking the ice and keeping the water open for the 

 ducks to come in from open water at daybreak. As 

 the rush of fowl passed over on their way to the 

 tide, clanging, shrieking, and grunting out their 

 rough notes, no wonder they said that the "hell- 

 hounds were out on the hunt," believing that these 

 were the souls of those that could never rest, because 

 their storm-washed and battered remains had not 

 received the rites of Christian burial. In dead, 

 creepy wintry weather they said that they were 

 hunted. When the foul phosphorescent marsh- 

 lanterns showed, as they did at times, then the 

 spirits were searching for the least stray bit of their 

 bones, for they believed that if they could only find 

 a fraction their weary souls would get rest. Shut 

 off from common humanity, only seeing people from 

 the outer world at rare intervals, with not the least 

 chance of seeing one of the old-fashioned news- 

 papers — and when that rare chance did offer hardly 

 being able to get through the meaning of matters, 

 of political matters especially — they were dead s^t 

 against changes. They were not alone in this, all 



