ecessary, and one was suggested by Norman, which
was to tie bushes around the sides of the canoe, so as to hide both the
vessel and those in it. This plan was at once adopted--the canoe was
paddled up to the bank--thick bushes were cut, and tied along the
gunwale; and then our voyageurs climbed in, and laying themselves as low
as possible, commenced paddling gently downward in the direction of the
ducks. The rifles were laid aside, as they could be of little service
with such game. Francois' double-barrel was the arm upon which
dependence was now placed; and Francois himself leaned forward in the
bow in order to be ready, while the others attended to the guidance of
the vessel. The buck-shot had been drawn out, and a smaller kind
substituted. The swan was no longer cared for or even thought of.

In about a quarter of an hour's time, the canoe, gliding silently along
the edge of the sedge--which was the wild celery (_Valisneria
spiralis_)--came near the place where the ducks were; and the boys,
peeping through the leafy screen, could now see the birds plainly. They
saw that they were not all canvass-backs, but that three distinct kinds
of ducks were feeding together. One sort was the canvass-backs
themselves, and a second kind very much resembled them, except that they
were a size smaller. These were the "red-heads" or "pochards." The
third species was different from either. They had also heads of a
reddish colour, but of a brighter red, and marked by a white band that
ran from the root of the bill over the crown. This mark enabled Lucien
at once to tell the species. They were widgeons (_Anas Americana_); but
the most singular thing that was now observed by our voyageurs was the
terms upon which these three kinds of birds lived with each other. It
appeared that the widgeon obtained its food by a regular system of
robbery and plunder perpetrated upon the community of the canvass-backs.
The latter, as Lucien had said, feeds upon the roots of the valisneria;
but for these it is obliged to dive to the depth of four or five feet,
and also to spend some time at the bottom while plucking them up. Now
the widgeon is as fond of the "celery" as the canvass-back, but the
former is not a diver--in fact, never goes under water except when
washing itself or in play, and it has therefore no means of procuring
the desired roots. Mark, then, the plan that it takes to effect this
end. Seated as near as is safe to the canvas