SHOOTING WILD DUCKS
When the boys and Jed Sanborn reached camp a surprise awaited them.
Seated at a small fire in front of Birch Tree Inn was an elderly man
dressed in the outfit of a mountain guide.
"Why, it's Jack Dalton!" cried Shep.
"Hullo, boys!" called the man at the fire, rising. "Thought as how
you'd be back some time to-day. How are ye, Jed?" he added, to the old
hunter.
Jack Dalton, as my old readers know, was a guide of that vicinity,
well known to all the inhabitants for miles around. He had visited the
boys' camp during the summer and had been friendly in more ways than
one.
"Thought I might get a shakedown here for the night," said Jack
Dalton. "Been hoofing it sence five o'clock this morning--over from
Philbrook's preserve--and I'm too tuckered out to make Fairview."
"Certainly you can stay with us," answered Snap. "Had any luck?"
"A few rabbits and some ducks, that's all. Gee shoo! Do you mean to
say you got them deer an' that buck to-day?"
"We did."
"Gosh all hemlock! No wonder a feller like me can't get nuthin! That's
rare luck; eh, Jed?"
"It was," answered the old hunter. "They don't expect to do it again
in a hurry."
The shelter was opened up and all went inside and prepared a generous
supper. Jack Dalton insisted upon giving the boys one of the ducks he
had brought down, in return for the accommodations received. On their
part they gave the guide a generous chunk of venison, for which he was
exceedingly thankful.
"I'd like to go out duck shooting," said Whopper. "It would be
something different."
"No ducks around Firefly Lake," answered Giant. "I asked Jed."
Jack Dalton was questioned and said that there were plenty of wild
ducks below the Philbrook preserve--at a locality known as the
Marshes--and he told them how to get there.
"But you want to be careful about walking over the Marshes," he said.
"In the summer time there are lots of bog holes, an' it ain't none too
safe in the winter time."
As Jack Dalton was going on to Fairview with Jed Sanborn, it was
decided by the boys to send the buck and one of the other deer home,
which would be easy, with two men to draw the load. All spent a
comfortable night in camp, nothing coming to disturb them. Breakfast
was a substantial one, and by nine o'clock Jed and Dalton set off with
their load, the old hunter also carrying various letters for the folks
at home. The boys went out on the lake to see them off, and gave them
a rousing cheer on parting.
"Tell everybody we are having the time of our lives," shouted Snap
after the pair.
There was more snow in the air, and the young hunters spent the
remainder of that day in camp, cleaning the game they had brought in
and also their firearms, and mending a couple of snowshoes that had
become a little broken. A portion of the chimney also needed
attention, and before they knew it, night was once more upon them.
"I'll tell you what," said Snap. "Out here the time seems to fairly
fly."
"Boys, do you realize that day after to-morrow is Christmas," came
from Whopper.
"So it is!" was the cry.
"Gracious, I almost forgot about it!"
"We must celebrate!"
"Sure thing! Oh, we'll have a dandy time. We can have fish, fowl and
venison, and pudding and cake and nuts and apples, and lots of good
things," finished Giant.
"Let us go duck hunting to-morrow and spend Christmas here," said the
doctor's son, and so it was agreed.
Everything was prepared for an early start, and the four boy hunters
were "up and doing" by seven o'clock in the morning.
"Phew! but ain't it cold!" ejaculated Snap, as he slapped his hands
together. "I didn't calculate on such a drop in the thermometer."
It certainly was freezing weather and they bundled up well before
leaving the shelter. As before, they shut up tightly, to keep out all
wild animals. The deer and other game had been hung high by ropes from
several tree limbs.
Of course all were on snowshoes, and they carried in their game-bags
provisions enough for two good meals. Every day they found walking on
snowshoes easier, and all got over the ground, or rather snow, very
well.
Once over the hills back of Firefly Lake, they took to a route that
was new to them, leading through a heavy belt of spruce timber and
then over a sloping stretch running down to the lowlands. On the way
they stirred up some rabbits and Whopper could not resist the
temptation to bring one of them low.
"Now I won't have to go back empty-handed, even if I don't see another
thing," he declared.
It was fully noon by the time they reached the edge of the Marshes,
wide stretches of lowlands, dotted here and there with clumps of
bushes. At a great distance they heard gunshots, but failed to
discover the gunners.
They tramped on to a point where Jack Dalton had said the wild ducks
were apt to be found. The wind was coming up, and out in this wide
open plain it cut like a knife.
"We won't want to stay out here more than an hour or two," said Shep.
"My backbone feels like an icicle!"
"Do you know what I think?" said Giant. "I think it is going to snow."
"So do I," came from Whopper.
A few minutes later the first flakes fell, and fearful that the snow
would interfere with their sight of any wild ducks they hurried
forward until they reached a circle of bushes Jack Dalton had
mentioned.
"Wait, I see some ducks!" cried Giant. "See, they are rising and
coming this way!"
"Be quick!" cried Snap, and brought around his shotgun. The others
also aimed their weapons, and as the wild ducks sailed almost over
them they let drive in a scattering volley. Two of the ducks were
killed outright and came straight down, while a third circled around
badly wounded. The others swept out of range before any harm could be
done to them.
"We've got two, anyway," said Shep.
"I'm going after that wounded one!" cried Whopper, and went off on his
snowshoes behind the fluttering game. The duck touched the snow and
then arose again and did this several times. Giant followed Whopper,
bound to get the third duck if it was possible to do so.
"Beware of holes!" yelled Snap, after the pair. "Remember what Jack
Dalton said!"
The others were too interested in pursuing the wounded duck to pay
attention to his words. Thinking he saw a chance, Whopper discharged
his weapon but it did no damage. Then Giant took a shot, and this was
likewise of no avail.
"Gracious, ducks seem to be harder to hit than deer!" cried the
smaller member of the Gun Club. "It will get away after all, Whopper!"
"Not if I know it," was the reply. "Come on!"
The pair continued to run, until fully a hundred yards more had been
covered. The wounded duck had now fluttered down into some bushes and
both felt sure they would be able to bag it. So eager were they that
they did not notice the softness of the snow before them until,
without warning, they sank up to their knees.
"Hi! what's this?" sputtered Whopper, as he floundered around.
"We're in a hole!" gasped Giant. "Say, we had better get back!"
They tried to turn back, but it was impossible, and soon both young
hunters were up to their waists and then to their breasts. They forgot
all about the wounded duck and began to call lustily for help.