A482 
flock of ducks come shambling down by 
the rushes and I brought down 2 of them. 
I then left the canoe to Harry and took a 
position in the rushes a short distance 
away. There was clear, open water on 
3 sides of me for about 4o yards, and 
behind me was marsh. I had no sooner 
taken my place than a flock of widgeon 
came down, 2 of them falling to my shot. 
I could hear Harry in the distance, but 
time and game were too precious for me 
to take note of his shots. A slight flurry 
of snow set in and for 15 or 20 minutes I 
did not have much shooting. I began to 
feel the cold, when suddenly I heard a 
“honk-honk” up the marsh. The sound sent 
all thoughts of discomfort from me and 
trying to squeeze myself into a cartridge 
bag I waited. Along came the honker, a 
plump Canada goose, leisurely looking for 
his breakfast. At 30 yards I took aim and 
he tumbled. I could not set him up 
with the ducks so I took him into the 
blind and waited for the snow to cease 
falling: Just as Iohadteot sntie\ a tock 
of blue-wing came down and strung right 
across the water in front of me. I let them 
have both barrels for luck, got 3 of them 
and had to use a No. 7 on one of them. 
The snow and rain ceased and the 
ducks, flying high, did not come near my 
blind for % an hour. My fingers were so 
cold I felt like shooting at anything within 
100 yards, just to warm them. While I 
was seriously thinking of taking a shot 
at nothing, snow began to fall again, and 
with it came a flock of geese. Luck was 
with me and I got 2 at an expense of 3 
RECREATION. 
cartridges. Retrieving my geese, I had 
hardly got into my blind when a flock of 
gadwalls came right before me. I brought 
down one and before I could fire a second 
barrel I had to devote my attention to 
getting out of the way as he was falling 
plump over my head like a rock. Then 
the birds came thick and fast, some- 
times double, oftener in singles, with occa- 
sional flocks and all big ducks. 
My cartridge bag and belt were nearly 
empty when Harry called to me that he 
had 40 birds, that he saw a steamer go- 
ing up the river and that he thought we 
might get a tow if we were quick about it. 
Gathering my 65* ducks and 3 geese I 
piled my game in the canoe, jumped in 
myself and we pulled to the camp. There 
we hastily threw in our outfit and Sun- 
day’s ducks, and in less than % an hour 
the big steamer was swiftly pulling us 
up the river. It was late in the afternoon 
when we reached Selkirk. We made ar- 
rangements to leave some of our ducks 
in the governmentfish freezers until steady 
cold weather set in, and then we started 
home, with excellent bags, lightened some- 
what by a plump % dozen brace we had 
sent to the parsonage. 

Why did you kill so many ducks? Why 
did you not stop when you got enough? 
One-half the number you killed would 
have been ample for 2 men for 2 days. The 
fact that you put the birds in cold storage 
and kept them for another time does not 
excuse you. Ep. 
A PLEASANT POINT YARN. 
W. C. BAKER. 
Four matches, in quick succession, 
flared up luridly, casting shadows on the 
gray rocks and sturdy tree trunks; 4 pipes 
glowed cheerfully in the gloom beneath 
our favorite pine, and 4 tired but. happy 
hunters settled back to smoke and talk. 
It was the finishing touch to a most en- 
joyable day. 
We had returned to camp at sunset, la- 
den with trophies of our skill. Supper 
had appeased our appetite, sharpened by 
the out-door labors of the day. The 
dreaded task of washing dishes had been 
finished. The camp was put in order; 
there was nothing else to do. With tired 
limbs and minds at ease we stretched out 
lazily on the brown pine needles, and 
smoked in silence. It was a fitting close 
of a glorious day. 
We were on the very tip of Pleasant 
Point. It was nearly high tide; and in 
was an Indian massacre 
the dusk the point looked like an isolated 
rock surrounded by a sea. The night 
breeze was stirring, and the water made 
low music as it splashed on the rocks 
below. From the grass at times came 
the “quack! quack!” of a restless duck; 
and a solitary heron, passing overhead, 
startled us with his croak. Far away on 
the hills the lights in the farm-houses 
blinked cheerfully; and down on the Ken- 
nebec, we could see the glow from a 
passing steamer. For a time we enjoyed 
the night in silence, but soon we fell to 
talking and the conversation turned to 
fights with Indians in the West. 
“T tell you, boys,” said Joe, “there have 
been Indian fights about here, too, in by- 
gone days. In 1722, I think it was, there 
at B——, and 
the ending of it was right on this Point, 
‘We 
a few feet from this very spot.” 
*You killed at least 3 times as many as you should.—EDITOR, 


