ncaid had
blown out the candle and was sitting back smoking a last pipe. Light
from the dying fire in the stove threw his shadow gigantic behind him.
As the flames rose or died this shadow advanced or receded, leaped or
fell, swelled or diminished; and all the other shadows did likewise. In
the entire room Mr. Kincaid's figure was the only motionless object.
Soon Bobby's vision blurred. The dancing shadows became unreal, changed
to dream creatures. Twice a realization, a delicious, poignant
realization of the morrow brought him back to consciousness; and the
dream creatures to the shadows. Then finally he drifted away with only
the feeling of something pleasant about to happen, lying as a background
to sleep.

He awoke in what seemed to him the middle of the night after an
absolutely _black_ sleep. His first thought was that the broad of his
back was shivering; his next that the tip of his nose was marvellous
cold; his last that he was curled all up in a ball like a furry raccoon.
Then he heard the scratch of a match. A light immediately flickered. In
two minutes the little stove was roaring and Mr. Kincaid was exhorting
him to arise.

"Come on, now!" he called. "Duck time!"

Bobby dressed in his thickest winter clothes, which he had brought for
the occasion. When, after breakfast, he put on his reefer and over that
the canvas coat, he looked and felt like a cocoon.

"That's all right," Mr. Kincaid reassured him. "It's going to be cold,
and you'll be mighty glad of them."

They stepped out on the float, and Mr. Kincaid thrust the duck-boat into
the water.

Bobby had never seen so many stars. The heavens were full of them, and
the still water had its share. Not a breath of wind was stirring.
Through the silence could be heard more plainly the roar of the surf far
away. The quacking of ducks came from near and far. Nothing of the marsh
was visible.

Bobby took his place on the shell-box in the bow, his rifle between his
knees. Curly, without awaiting command, jumped in and lay at his feet.
Mr. Kincaid stepped in aft. Bobby could feel the quiver of the boat as
it took the weight, but having been instructed to sit quiet, he did not
look around. The craft received an impetus and moved forward.
Immediately the breaking of thin scum ice set up a crackling.

"Pretty cold!" said Bobby.

"Don't talk," replied Mr. Kincaid in a guarded voice.

They moved forward in silence. Only the slight crackling at the prow,
the s