XII.

A Deer-Hunt on the Water.

The next morning, after breakfast, Frank and his cousin, accompanied
by the dogs, got into the skiff, and pulled up the creek, on a
"prospecting expedition." They had started for the swamp, which lay
about two miles and a half from the cottage, to see what the prospects
were for a good muskrat-hunt in the spring. This swamp covered,
perhaps, five hundred acres, and near its center was a small lake,
which emptied into Glen's Creek.

A few moments' pulling brought them to this lake, and Frank, who was
seated at the helm, turned the boat's head toward a high point that
projected for some distance out into the lake, and behind which a
little bay set back into the land. This point was the only high land
about the swamp, and stretched away back into the woods for several
miles. It was a favorite place for sunfish and perch; and the boys
landed, and were rigging their poles, intending to catch some for
their dinner, when they heard a strange noise, that seemed to come
from the bay behind the point. They knew in a moment that it was made
by a duck, but still it was a sound they had never heard before, and,
hunter-like, they determined to discover where it came from. So,
reaching for their guns, they crawled carefully through the bushes,
until they came within sight of the bay. A brood of young ducks, under
the direction of two old ones, were sporting about among the broad
leaves of the water-lilies. They had never seen any like them before;
but Frank knew in a moment, from descriptions he had often read, that
they were eider-ducks, and he determined, if possible, to capture some
of the young ones, which, he noticed, were but half-fledged, and too
small to fly. But the question was how to proceed. If the ducklings
could not fly, they could swim like a streak; and he knew that, the
moment they were alarmed, they would either make for the opposite side
of the bay or for the lake, and, if they succeeded in reaching the
open water, he might whistle for his ducks.

His only chance was to corner them in the bay; they would then be
obliged to hide among the lilies, and perhaps they might succeed in
capturing some of them.

Hurriedly whispering to his cousin, they crept back to the skiff,
pulled around the point, and entered the bay. The moment they came in
sight, the old ones uttered their cries of warning, took to wing, and
flew out over the lake, and, as they had expected, the young ones
dar