of reach.

But at last Bobby Orde, awakening early, heard the rising and falling
moan of wind past the eaves' corner outside his windows. He hopped out
of bed, thrust his feet into a pair of knit socks and ran to the window.
The sun was not yet up; but the wild barbaric gold of it was flung
abroad over flat, hard-looking clouds.

_"'Bright sunrise at morning,
The sailor takes warning,'"_

murmured Bobby.

In the yard below, the brown leaves were chasing themselves madly around
and about, back and forth, like restless spirits. Others slanted down
from the trees in continuous flocks. The maples tossed restlessly. In
the air was a deep bitter chill which sent Bobby scurrying back to his
warm nest in a hurry.

After breakfast he was glad of his heavier suit. The sun rose and shone,
it is true; but its rays possessed no warmth. The light of it appeared
to be a cold silver, like the sheen on stubble. All the landscape seemed
to have paled. Gone were the rich glowing reds, the warm browns. A gray
cast hung over the land.

From school Bobby hurried home to be in time for an early lunch as Mr.
Orde wanted to go up river. He found Bucephalus in front; and Mr.
Kincaid about to sit down to the lunch table. The latter had on his old
gray suit and cardigan jacket.

"Hullo, youngster!" he greeted Bobby, "Looks like pretty good weather
for ducks. Want to go for a shoot?"

That settled lunch for Bobby. He could hardly stay at table until the
others had finished; and heard with enraptured joy his mother's voice,
as she rose from the table, asking Mr. Kincaid about provisions.

"I have all that," replied Mr. Kincaid, "and there's lots of bedding and
such things."

Nevertheless Mrs. Orde slipped away after a moment to wrap up a loaf of
"salt-rising bread," and one of "dutch bread." The two-wheeled cart
Bobby found, when finally he and Mr. Kincaid emerged from the house
carrying his valise, to be well packed with the shell-box, gun, bag and
a lunch basket. Mr. Kincaid's duck-dog, named Curly, lay crouched in the
bottom like a soft warm mat. Bobby had met Curly before. He was a
comical seal-brown dog, covered with compact tight curls all over his
body. When Bobby petted him, they felt springy. His face, head and ears,
however, were smooth and silky. He had yellow eyes, and an engaging
disposition. To the touch his body, even through the tight curls, felt
unusually warm. Though Curly's tail was a mere stump he wagged it
en