had done little to mitigate the atmosphere as yet. Maids were
dusting and sweeping. The table was not yet set. Inquiry telling that
breakfast was more than an hour later, I took a gun from the rack,
pocketed the only five shells in sight, and departed to see what I could
see.

The outer world was crisp with frost. I clambered over the corral fence,
made my way through a hundred acres or so of slumbering pigs, and so
emerged into the open country.

In the middle distance and perhaps a mile away was a low fringe of
brush; to the left an equal distance a group of willows; and almost
behind me a clump of cottonwoods. I resolved to walk over to the brush,
swing around to the willows, turn to the cottonwoods, and so back to the
ranch. It looked like about four miles or so. Perhaps with my five
shells I might get something. At any rate, I would have a good walk.

The mountains were turning from the rose pink of early morning. I could
hear again the bickering cries of the snow geese and sandhill cranes
away in an unknown distance, the homelier calls of barnyard fowl nearer
at hand. Cattle trotted before me and to right and left, their heads
high, their gait swinging with the freedom of the half-wild animals of
the ranges. After a few steps they turned to stare at me, eyes and
nostrils wide, before making up their minds whether or not it would be
wise to put a greater distance between me and them. The close sod was
green and strong. It covered the slightly rounding irrigation "checks"
that followed in many a curve and double the lines of contours on the
flat plain.

The fringe of brush did not amount to anything; it was merely a
convenient turning mark for my little walk. Arrived there, I executed a
sharp "column left----"

Seven ducks leaped into the air apparently from the bare, open, and dry
ground!

Every sportsman knows the scattering effect on the wits of the
absolutely unexpected appearance of game. Every sportsman knows also the
instinctive reactions that long habit will bring about. Thus,
figuratively, I stood with open mouth, heart beating slightly faster,
and mind making to itself such imbecile remarks as: "Well, _what_ do you
think of that! Who in blazes would have expected ducks here?" and other
futile remarks. In the meantime, the trained part of me had jerked the
gun off my shoulder, pushed forward the safety catch, and prepared for
one hasty long shot at the last and slowest of the ducks. Now the
instinc