ght; at others they merely stooped, and flew by.
These offered difficult side shots at long range. Always the mallards
made their wide circles of inspection; but always Mr. Kincaid waited
patiently for them, ignoring absolutely other ducks that in the meantime
lit among the decoys. Big flocks of teal manoeuvred back and forth
erratically like blackbirds, wheeling, turning, rising and darting
without apparent reason but as though at the word of command. The high
buzz of their wings was quite different from the whistling flight of the
larger ducks. One of these bands came within range, but without
attempting to alight. Into the compact formation Mr. Kincaid emptied
both barrels. Instantly the air seemed to Bobby full of ducks falling.
They hit the water like huge rain drops. Bobby could not begin to keep
count; but Mr. Kincaid said nine. Among them was a broken-winged
cripple, which at once began to swim toward the rushes on the other side
the pond.

"Fetch, Curly!" commanded Mr. Kincaid.

Curly, with a whimper of delight, plunged into the icy water, and with
astonishing speed overtook and seized the wounded duck. He returned
proudly carrying his prize; was handed in over the gunwale; shook
himself like a lawn sprinkler; and resettled himself in the bottom of
the boat. Curly was a quiet and reserved character. His specialty was
lying still, and swimming after ducks. The rest of life did not interest
him.

Now little by little the flight slackened. Longer intervals ensued
between the visits to the decoys. The sky was occasionally quite clear
of ducks, so that for a few moments Mr. Kincaid and Bobby would rise to
stretch their legs. Always they kept a sharp lookout in all directions,
and at the first sight of game, even so far away in the sky it looked
like a flock of specks, they would drop down into concealment. This was
something Bobby could do; and he was always overjoyed when he caught
sight of the ducks first; and could say "mark east"--or west or whatever
it was--as Mr. Kincaid taught him.

Sometimes the ducks passed far away; but again the direction of their
flight brought them within hearing distance of the blind. Then Mr.
Kincaid produced his duck-call, and uttered through it the most natural
duck sounds.

"Quack!" it said sharply, and then after the briefest possible pause.
"Quok-quok-quok-quok-quok!" in increasing rapidity. It was quite
remarkable to observe how the flock, apparently with a fixed destinati