ull. Every little while I
got up to look at him, lying there with his little pointed face, still
dead. At last I wrapped him up, and pushed him farther in, out of
sight.

All the while the empty tumbler seemed to look at me reproachfully
from the window sill.

XIII. SNOWY VISITORS.

[Illustration]

Over my table, as I write, is a big snowy owl whose yellow eyes seem
to be always watching me, whatever I do. Perhaps he is still wondering
at the curious way in which I shot him.

One stormy afternoon, a few winters ago, I was black-duck shooting at
sundown, by a lonely salt creek that doubled across the marshes from
Maddaket Harbor. In the shadow of a low ridge I had built my blind
among some bushes, near the freshest water. In front of me a solitary
decoy was splashing about in joyous freedom after having been confined
all day, quacking loudly at the loneliness of the place and at being
separated from her mate. Beside me, crouched in the blind, my old dog
Don was trying his best to shiver himself warm without disturbing the
bushes too much. That would have frightened the incoming ducks, as Don
knew very well.

It grew dark and bitterly cold. No birds were flying, and I had stood
up a moment to let the blood down into half-frozen toes, when a shadow
seemed to pass over my head. The next moment there was a splash,
followed by loud quacks of alarm from the decoy. All I could make out,
in the obscurity under the ridge, was a flutter of wings that rose
heavily from the water, taking my duck with them. Only the anchor
string prevented the marauder from getting away with his booty. Not
wishing to shoot, for the decoy was a valuable one, I shouted
vigorously, and sent out the dog. The decoy dropped with a splash, and
in the darkness the thief got away--just vanished, like a shadow,
without a sound.

[Illustration]

Poor ducky died in my hands a few moments later, the marks of sharp
claws telling me plainly that the thief was an owl, though I had no
suspicion then that it was the rare winter visitor from the north. I
supposed, of course, that it was only a great-horned-owl, and so laid
plans to get him.

Next night I was at the same spot with a good duck call, and some
wooden decoys, over which the skins of wild ducks had been carefully
stretched. An hour after dark he came again, attracted, no doubt, by
the continued quacking. I had another swift glimpse of what seemed
only a shadow; saw it poise and shoot do