THE GREAT MARSH
"Glad to see you, fellows! Say, by the way, I hear that Clifford
won the great football match against Columbia!" was the way the
way Bones Shadduck greeted them as they reached his door and rang
the bell.
"You don't tell me," said Frank, with a smile; "when did it
happen?"
"Oh! last night some time. It was a great victory. I'm told they
nearly painted the town red over it," responded the other.
"Well, for my part I prefer to do the celebrating after the thing
is over to shouting before hand. Perhaps they celebrated too hard,
and that might account for several fool plays that were made. I
had an idea that several of Clifford's best players looked rather
red-eyed, as though they didn't get much sleep," remarked Frank,
as they entered.
"And I shouldn't be surprised if you were right. I was told they
had a dance and it was all hours of the morning when they went
home," echoed Bones.
"But what did you want us over for in particular?" asked Frank.
"Something to show you and then a proposal to make. I had a
birthday to-day, and my dad's been mighty good to me. What do you
think of that?"
Bones whipped out a beautiful shotgun from behind a case and
handed it over to the others to admire.
"Looks like a dandy, all right. And I wager she'll do some good
work when you get to looking over the sights. Handles great, too.
Although I think I like my own gun a little the better, still
that's only a matter of prejudice. You're lucky to have such a
dad, Bones," remarked Frank, as he drew an imaginary bead on some
object seen out of the window.
"And now for my proposal. I'm just wild to try the new gun, and I
had word from father's farmer, Benson, that the ducks were in the
old swamp that adjoins our big patch of ground over Wheaten way. I
can get our horse and the three of us might take a spin over to
see what we can do," suggested Bones, eagerly.
"But I thought duck shooting was always done in the early
morning?" ventured Ralph.
"It usually is; but in some localities there is apt to be a good
evening flight. That happens to be the case over at the swamp.
I've seen them come in there to spend the night by twos and
dozens, until the air was thick with them. And I've had the best
sport of my life in knocking them over on a runway, or rather
flyway. Say you'll go, Frank?" pleaded the enthusiastic sportsman.
"Well," answered the one addressed, "it always appeals to me, and
in this case I'd just as soon be away from town to-night, because
the boys are going to do stunts, and they hinted that they might
get hold of me to ride me around, something I object to seriously,
on general principles. So far as I'm concerned I'll be delighted
to go along, Bones."
"Ditto here," exclaimed Ralph; "only I shall have to go to be the
pick-up, for I haven't got a gun. I used to handle an old one of
Mr. West's, but, of course, didn't bring it along with me."
"Oh! that's easily fixed. If you don't mind you can use my old
one. She's a steady shooter. If you cover your bird you get him
every time. And I've got plenty of shells. Suppose you chase back
and get your double-barrel, Frank, while I see about the rig.
Ralph will stay with me and help, I know."
It was speedily arranged and Frank, on returning with his gun,
found the others ready to make a start. Just as he had said the
arrangement pleased him first-rate, for he really did want to get
out of town until a late hour that night. It was not at all to the
liking of the football captain to be carried around on show, just
as if he were a hero on exhibition; especially when he avowed that
he deserved not one whit more honor for the victory than each
other member of the team.
"I hope they get Lanky, and trot him around some to see how he
likes it. He was scolding me for not behaving right to the boys
to-day, when they grabbed me on the field after the game. I'd give
something to see him wallowing around on a platform and made to
bow to the right and to the left, over and over again."
All of them laughed heartily at the picture Frank conjured up.
Then they clambered into the vehicle and the start was made.
They had been wise enough to hide the guns, so that while some of
the boys who were on the streets saw them ride off, they had no
suspicion that the one bright particular star of the intended
celebration intended to be far away at the time.
It was a ride of more than ten miles. The horse, while not a fast
animal, could keep up a steady pace, and in good time they arrived
at the farm which Doctor Shadduck owned.
As the afternoon was passing, and night comes early after the
middle of November, the three young sportsmen hastened to head for
the swamp where they anticipated having an hour or so of pleasure
before dark actually shut in.
Bones had often come up here on a similar errand, though this was
his first visit this year. Still, he kept things in such shape
that there was little time wasted making the necessary arrangements.
He had a few painted decoys that had seen much service and these
they carried along with them from the house.
Seeing Frank curiously examining one of the stools he carried,
Bones broke out into a hearty laugh.
"Wondering what peppered that wooden decoy so, eh, Frank? I'll
tell you, though you'll never enjoy the story as much as I did the
actual thing. I had a cousin up here last winter. He was from New
York City, and had never shot at real game, though he was a deadly
marksman when it came to the trap, and could break bats and clay
pigeons right along."
"I've seen the breed," commented Frank, with a grin.
"Well, when we came crawling out here I forgot that I had asked
Benson to put my little flock of decoys out for me. The first
thing I knew I heard a bang close to my ear, and then a second
shot, after which Cousin Hal jumped up shouting that he had
knocked over the entire bunch. He had, but you ought to have seen
his look when I sent him wading out to retrieve the game. Still,
he laughed himself at the joke, and begged me not to tell it till
after he left."
"I guess they'll float about as well as ever, even if weighted
down with shot. Have you got a boat up here, Bones?" asked Ralph.
"Sure I have, and a dandy one to shoot out of, being flat-bottomed
and steady as a church floor. But I only use it to retrieve the
game generally; because you see, we can shoot from the land as the
ducks fly over to enter the swamp."
Frank had often heard of this style of shooting, and wanted to try
it; so that he was very glad he had come. After the tremendous
strain of the morning some relaxation of this kind would be a good
thing too, for all of them.
"I told my people not to expect me home to supper; and also that
they might be having game tomorrow for dinner, if we were lucky,"
remarked Frank.
"And nobody will bother whether I show up or not," observed Ralph,
with a nervous little laugh.
"Never mind, old chap, I calculate that there's going to come a
decided change in your condition before a great while. You're
showing true grit in bearing up as well as you do. Any day you may
get the letter that tells you the ones you look for are on the way
here. Then your troubles will be all in the past. Hello! how's
this Bones? Have we arrived?" and Frank looked around curiously
when the guide came to a sudden halt.
"Here we are, fellows. You see that abrupt break in the heavy line
of trees. It seems to form a sort of avenue, and the ducks in
flying toward the swamp just naturally drive into it, following
after each other as though it were really a road. In fact, few of
them ever enter the swamp by any other way than this."
"If we're going to shoot over a place like this, as the ducks come
in, why the decoys?" asked Ralph.
Bones laughed as he replied:
"I generally keep them out here during the season, in a little
shelter I have. Nothing like making fellows useful, you know; and
while we were coming I thought three could carry them better than
one! Sort of making you work your passage, see?"
Knowing the ground, and the habits of the waterfowl, Bones quickly
placed his two friends. Then they anxiously awaited the coming of
the first game.
A sort of routine had been arranged. This was to prevent any waste
of ammunition, through two of them shooting at the same quarry.
"Frank, you try the first chap, Ralph the second, and I'll
experiment with my new gun when the next pilgrim spins along.
Don't forget that they are swift customers right here, and the
chances are you'll shoot back of them," said Bones, as they stood
at their posts.
"There, Frank!" exclaimed Ralph, as a couple of dark objects
suddenly burst into view, and sped past them.
But Frank was not taken unawares. He had shot ducks more than once
before, and knew how to properly gauge their flight. Beginning a
little behind the pair he swept his gun forward so as to pass
them; and at just the instant it covered the game in its swinging
movement he pressed the trigger.
One of the ducks fell, stone dead, and the other went on with
diminished speed as though crippled. Almost instantly the second
barrel spoke, and this time down came the second bird.
"Fine!" exclaimed Bones, who had never seen Frank shoot before;
"why, really, I'm ashamed to show my clumsiness before such a
crack shot."
"None of that, now. And don't believe I can do that sort of work
right along. Next time it may be a clean double miss. Ducks are
unreliable things. I've known the best of shots to miss, time and
again. Ralph, step up and toe the mark. You're next on the
docket," laughed Frank, as he hastily replaced the discharged
shells with fresh ones.
"Better retrieve your game while the balance of us keep a lookout.
Otherwise we'll get things mixed, and perhaps lose some of it.
Did you mark the places?" said the host of the little hunt.
"Oh! yes, I always do that. It gets to be a habit with any fellow
who hunts much. I think they fell dead, so I oughtn't to have much
trouble," replied Frank.
"Beware the oozy spots along the border of the marsh. I've had no
end of trouble getting stuck instead of duck," called out Bones,
as the other moved away, carrying his gun along with him as a wise
hunter always does.
Just as he retrieved the second victim to his accuracy he heard a
single shot, and a heavy body fell not ten feet away. Ralph had
dropped his first duck also.
"There you are," remarked Frank, throwing the three birds down, as
he returned to the rendezvous; "and they do certainly look fine
and plump. Reckon you have quite a few muskrats in this old marsh
of yours, Bones. I saw a lot of houses in the water, made of
sticks and trash?"
"I was told there were. Of course I've seen the little varmints at
times, when I've been hiding in a duck-blind; but they never
trouble me, and I don't go out of my way to interfere with them.
Ah! there!"
He threw up his gun, and a second later two shots rang out in
rapid succession. Quite a bunch of teal had swung into the
avenue, heading for the marsh. They were just everlastingly
hurrying, as Ralph said, and while Bones succeeded in knocking
down a couple, one only wounded, which he never did find, he
declared he ought to be ashamed for not doing better.
"Still, I like the feel of the gun all right. I'll do something
worth while when I get used to the hang of it," he remarked, as he
went off to look for his game.
Then Frank had another chance. Sometimes the ducks were higher up;
then again they came at such speed that it was next to impossible
to make a hit.
So the fun went on for three-quarters of an hour. It was actually
getting dusk, and the flight seemed about over. Ralph had dropped
a single duck, and gone off to try and find it, though Bones said
he doubted whether he would succeed, because of the gathering
gloom.
About five minutes afterwards, as he and Frank were sitting there
on the log, exchanging stories of former hunts, they heard Ralph
calling.
"Hello! what's the matter?" exclaimed Frank, starting up.
"I don't know, but I can give a pretty good guess," remarked
Bones; and then elevating his voice, he shouted:
"What d'ye want, Ralph?"
"Better drop over here, please!" came the reply.
"He's in some sort of trouble," suggested Frank, judging from the
half apologetic tone of his chum.
"Yes, and I expect stuck in the ooze of the marsh, worse luck!"
grunted Bones.