482 



RECREA TION. 



and hastily taking the canoe from off our 

 heads we saw a woman seated in a buggy, 

 drawn by an old white mule. The beast 

 had planted his feet firmly, stuck his ears 

 forward in the most comical fashion, and 

 had refused to budge another inch. I took 

 him by the bit, and, with difficulty per- 

 suaded him to move on. Then we did like- 

 wise. 



The lake reached it was a short task for 

 a pair of brawny young arms, well trained 

 to the business, to shoot the light shell 

 across the quiet waters of Prairie lake to 

 the North end, where a point or bar ex- 

 tends Southeasterly nearly across the upper 

 end of the lake, and nearly encloses, on the 

 North, a fine bed of wild rice. This had, in 

 years gone by, furnished food for number- 

 less flocks of mallard and teal. Of late 

 years the place had been overlooked, the 

 hunters taking it for granted that there 

 could be no shooting so near town. 



It had, however, been reported to us, a 

 day or 2 previously, that the ducks, being 

 shot at so much on other lakes, were now 

 in the habit of coming in there to feed 

 nights, and to " roost " on the sand bar 

 where, along the edge, in the shallow 

 water, plenty of wild celery is to be found. 

 Our plan was to build a blind out of rushes 

 and cane brake, which grew there in abun- 

 dance, and, putting our blankets inside this 

 cover, to pass the night there and be ready 

 to round them up as soon as the " Aurora 

 of morn should illuminate the oriental hori- 

 zon." 



We hid the canoe, up on the shore; found 

 a nice location on the edge of the bar, near 

 where the wild celery grew, and there 

 erected our blind. We filled it up, inside, 

 with dead rushes, took our guns and, 

 wrapping our blankets around us lay 

 down — but not to sleep. 



It was a perfect evening, cool and clear. 

 There was no moon but the stars kept it 

 from being dark. We curled ourselves up, 

 on our bed of rushes, and lay listening to 

 the different sounds that came floating out 

 to us across the water. Yonder the plaintive 

 good-night notes of a Wilson's thrush, 

 from his retreat in the brush land across 

 the lake. Back of us, on the meadow, the 

 " clink "— " clink "— " clink "—of a cow 

 bell as its owner lay chewing her cud — 

 keeping time with the bell as perfectly as 

 the beat of a metronome. Down at the foot 

 of the lake, the occasional rumble of vehi- 

 cles could be heard, as they crossed the 

 bridge. 



The cackle of mud hens, right near our 

 nest, irritated Frank and he couldn't sleep. 

 Every few moments he would let out an 

 ejaculation that would make the atmos- 

 phere inside our blind smell decidedly sul- 

 phurous; but it did not disconcert Miss 

 Mud-hen a bit — she kept right at it. I fell 

 asleep about midnight, and had just gotten 

 nicely to dreaming of ducks, flying at me 



from all quarters, and I dropping them 

 right and left, when I felt a punch in my 

 ribs which brought me to my senses and 

 angered me too. Then Frank growled, 



" Come, let's get out of this hole! " 



" I'm getting wet." 



I rolled over on my elbow and asked him 

 if he was crazy or if he had been walking in 

 his sleep and had fallen into the lake? 



" By Gosh," said he, " you don't have to 

 go outside this blind to get wet; there's 

 water right here under us, and I am lying 

 in it!" 



" Oh come off! " said I, "we are more 

 than 20 feet from the water's edge, and at 

 least 6 inches higher up. Lie down and go 

 to sleep. Or if you don't like this place to 

 sleep go where you like it better! " And 

 mad as a hornet at being thus awakened, 

 for nothing, when I was having such good 

 luck (in my dream) I dropped back into 

 my nest resolved to sleep in spite of my 

 unruly neighbor. 



Presently a wet sensation about my 

 shoulder became apparent. I said nothing, 

 at first, but quietly passed my hand up 

 there, and — sure enough it was water. I 

 felt around and found that there was water 

 on all sides of us, and that it was soaking 

 up through our bed of rushes. Frank was 

 sitting up, now, and muttered something 

 about its being a wonder I didn't lie there 

 and sleep till I floated away — that he told 

 me it was getting wet. I scrambled around, 

 got my gun and rolled up my blanket. 



" Frank," said I, " where in thunder did 

 this water come from? There was none 

 near us when we lay down; and now it is 2 

 or 3 inches deep all over the bar." 



Frank said he didn't know unless Frazee 

 had opened his dam. That proved to be the 

 cause of the flood. Mr. Frazee, who owns 

 the water power below, had, the year be- 

 fore, built a dam between this lake and the 

 next above, to hold back the surplus water 

 during the rainy season and this very after- 

 noon he had driven out and opened his 

 head-gate, as his supply of water was get- 

 ting short. It took but a few hours' time to 

 raise the water, around this bar, a foot, and 

 it was still rising. 



"What shall we do?" asked Frank. 

 "Stay here?" 



" I guess we might as well," I replied. 

 " It is getting so late we had better wait, 

 now, until daylight. What time is it any 

 way: 



Frank pulled out his watch, and my 

 spirits dropped when he announced that it 

 was but half past one! We made up our 

 minds to stay, however, and after gathering 

 up our things and putting them in the 

 canoe, we sat there, shivering, until day- 

 light. 



We had not heard the first sign of a duck 

 flying into the lake during the night, but 

 somehow we hoped that when day light 

 came we should get some shooting. 



