een done the oven was
hermetically sealed.

"We may have to wait a little later than usual for our supper," Jack
said; "but when they're done, it'll sure make your mouths water just to
get the scent, after that oven is opened."

The afternoon passed slowly. All clouds had sailed away, and the sun
shone in a cherry manner, giving promise for a glorious day on the
morrow. Still, they could not think of changing their anchorage,
because the waves continued to run high; and that boat of George's was
always to be remembered as the one weak link in the chain.

Josh did himself proud in preparing supper that night. And when the
oven was finally opened, the delicious odor that immediately assailed
the nostrils of the hungry lads sent them into the seventh heaven of
delightful anticipation.

Nor was the eating of the ducks at all a disappointment. Never had
they tasted anything finer in all their lives.

"Say, if mallards can touch the spot like this, what must redheads or
canvasbacks be like?" demanded Nick, as he polished a leg bone
handsomely, grunting his pleasure meanwhile, and perhaps inwardly
sighing because there was not one whole duck apiece.

"We'll see, later on," replied Jack; "because, as we have to pass
through those North Carolina sounds where such ducks can be found,
there's a chance we'll take toll on the way."

"But I thought the hunting clubs had monopolized every foot of that
water; and that only the wealthy New Yorkers, and ex-presidents, could
shoot on Albemarle and Currituck Sounds?" remarked Josh.

"Well, pretty much all the best points are private territory now," Jack
answered, frowning; "but it's possible to sneak a few shots when you're
passing through on the way south. Wait and see what we can do,
fellows."

"Well, one thing sure," declared Nick, admiringly; "if ever Jack
Stormways pulls trigger on a canvasback, he goes along with this bully
crowd, all right."

"Hear! hear!" cried the others, which caused the flattered Jack to
smile and wave his hand in token of sincere appreciation.

"I reckon now," remarked George, as they sat around the blaze later on,
conversing along various topics; "you've hung on to that bally old
mystery all tight enough, Jack?"

"Meaning the little sealed packet the skipper of the hydro-aeroplane
gave into my keeping?" the one addressed made reply. "Why, of course I
have it safe; and if I manage to get through to Beaufort, I hope to
hunt up the same Van