THE WIT OF A DUCK 



lose his bearings, and get hopelessly confused in 

 the tangle of roads that converged at the station. 



But he seemed to have an exact map of the 

 country in his mind; he soon left the station road, 

 went around a house, through a vineyard, till he 

 struck a stone fence that crossed his course at right 

 angles; this he followed eastward till it was joined 

 by a barbed wire fence, under which he passed 

 and again entered the highway he had first taken. 

 Then down the road he paddled with renewed 

 confidence : under the trees, down a hill, through a 

 grove, over a bridge, up the hill again toward home. 



Presently he found his clue cut in two by the 

 railroad track; this was something he had never 

 before seen; he paused, glanced up it, then down 

 it, then at the highway across it, and quickly con- 

 cluded this last was his course. On he went again, 

 faster and faster. 



He had now gone half the distance, and was get- 

 ting tired. A little pool of water by the roadside 

 caught his eye. Into it he plunged, bathed, drank, 

 preened his plumage for a few moments, and then 

 started homeward again. He knew his home was 

 on the upper side of the road, for he kept his eye 

 bent in that direction, scanning the fields. Twice 

 he stopped, stretched himself up, and scanned the 

 landscape intently; then on again. It seemed as if 

 an invisible cord was attached to him, and he was 

 being pulled down the road. 



55 



