252 



RECREATION. 



dering flocks saw our decoys, called 

 loudly to them, were answered in real 

 goose talk by Jock, circled around a 

 few times, then spread out their long 

 wings and descended against the light 

 wind. As they settled closer and 

 closer, I prepared myself. Now or 

 never ! They came on until they were 

 directly over their iron deceivers, 

 when, losing sight of them, they ut- 

 tered loud cries of dismay and turned 

 distractedly about. That was our 

 chance ! Jock fired both barrels with 

 deadly aim into the bunched birds, 

 bringing 4 to the ground. I took 

 plenty of time, and aiming at the 

 thickest of the flock pulled first one 

 trigger and then the other. 



"Snap! Snap!" There was no re- 

 port, and all too late I remembered 

 I had neglected to reload after my last 

 discharge. 



Jock had not left his pit ; yet when I 

 turned to look at him he was nowhere 

 in sight, although judging from some 

 surprised sounds issuing from mother 

 earth, he was enjoying my discomfit- 

 ure. I reloaded my gun and resumed 

 my station, with a desperate resolve 

 to do or die. 



It was then broad daylight, and as 

 the geese were all feeding, we only 

 stood a chance of trapping stray 

 flocks. We fired several shots at long 

 distances, and my companion, with 

 his disreputable old gun killed 2 birds 

 at distances much too great for my 

 prized weapon. We had about given 

 up hope of getting any more sport 

 when my friend suddenly called out, 



"Here comes a lone goo'se ! Now's 



your chance, lad ! There's no fool 

 like a lone goose. Fire when I tell 

 you." 



I promptly descended into my lair 

 and waited. "Honk! Honk! Honk!" 

 On it came, the unmistakable cry of 

 a lone goose ! Right for the decoys it 

 came, up to them and over them till 

 it loomed so close to me I was 

 sure it was time to shoot, but fearing 

 failure I awaited the signal. Nearer, 

 nearer ! It seemed a prodigious size ; 

 some modern roc, a survival of the 

 days of Sindbad. Would Jock never 

 cry ! Yes, he cried softly, and in such 

 haste was I that I fired without bring- 

 ing my gun to my shoulder. The 

 great bird passed serenely on ! Then I 

 shut my teeth, coolly examined my 

 gun, took deliberate aim and fired the 

 left barrel with vengeful precision. 

 The enormous wings dropped ; the 

 long neck stretched wildly out ; the 

 legs fell ; and the great bird descended 

 to the earth with a heavy crash. 



With a shout of exultation I 

 dropped my gun and rushed toward 

 my goose ; picked it up ; weighed it 

 in both hands ; stroked its feathers, 

 and cried out that it was shot just in 

 the spot where I had aimed. Then I 

 insisted on shaking hands with Jock 

 and presenting him with another plug 

 of tobacco. 



As we drove away we passed 8 

 geese sitting on a ridge in the next 

 field, but they were out of reach and 

 there was no cover under which to 

 stalk them. I longed for a rifle, but 

 my 12 gauge was useless and we had 

 to leave them there. 



Here lies what is left 



Of little Bob Carroll. 

 He was cleaning his gun, 



And blew clown the barrel. 



— Chicago Tribune. 



