fearlessly down in response
to the captive's calls, met the doom that blazed from the reed-covert,
and left two of its members gasping on the surface of the pond. This
time, however, the despair of the captive was less loud and less
prolonged. As leader, for two seasons, of his own flock, he had
necessarily learned certain simple processes of deduction. These
pitiful tragedies through which he had just passed were quite
sufficient to convince him that this particular shallow pond, though
so good a feeding-ground, was a fatal place for the voyaging geese to
visit. Further, in a dim way, his shocked and shuddering brain began
to realize that his own calling was the cause of the horrors. If he
called, the flocks came fearlessly, content with his pledge that all
was well. Upon their coming, the fire, and dreadful thunders, and
inexplicable death burst forth from the sedge; and then the great
brown dog appeared to drag his prey to shore. The whole mischief, as
it seemed to him, was the work of the dog; and it did not occur to him
that the man, who seemed fairly well-disposed and all-powerful, had
anything whatever to do with it. This idea gradually grew clear in
the captive's brain, as he swam, very slowly, to and fro upon the
brightening water. In a vague way his heart determined that he would
lure no more of his kindred to their doom. And when, a little later, a
third flock came trumpeting up the sky, the captive eyed their
approach in despairing silence.

As the beating wings drew near, stooping toward the silvery pools and
pale green levels, the captive swam back and forward in wild
excitement, aching to give the call and ease his loneliness. The
flock, perceiving him, drew nearer; but in his excited movements and
his silence its leader discerned a peril. There was something sinister
and incomprehensible in this splendidly marked bird who refused to
summon them to his feeding-ground, and kept swimming wildly back and
forth. Keeping well beyond gunshot, they circled around this smiling
but too mysterious water, to alight with great clamour and splashing
in a little, sheltered mere some two or three hundred yards farther
inland. The hunter, crouching moveless and expectant in his ambush,
muttered an exclamation of surprise, and wondered if it could be
possible that his incomparable decoy had reached an understanding of
the treacherous game and refused to play it.

"There's no smarter bird that flies than a wild gander!"