Bobby's muscles stiffened to
the point of aching. The limited vista bounded on right and left by the
sidewise movement of his eyeballs, and above by the brim of his cap
contained nothing. He did not dare extend this vista by so much as one
inch. But in the air sounded that magic soul-stirring whistle of wings,
now gaining in volume until it seemed overhead; now fading until Bobby
thought surely the ducks must have become suspicious and left.

And then, low to the reeds across the pond, a long deliberate flight of
black bodies against the sky came into sight at the left, slanted across
the field of his vision and disappeared to the right. Their wings were
set, and every instant Bobby expected to hear the splash of water that
should indicate their alighting. But Mr. Kincaid's figure held its
immobility. He knew that the wily old mallards were not yet satisfied.
Indeed at the last moment, instead of swinging in, they arose with a
sudden swift effort, and resumed the slow scrutinizing circle about the
pond.

Bobby lived an eternity in the next few moments. His neck muscles grew
stiff; his eyeballs strained from a constant attempt to see farther to
one side than nature had intended him to see. Each circle he followed
visually as far as he could, and then aurally, his hopes arising and
falling as the whistling of the wings sounded near or far. And each
circle was lower than its predecessor, until at last the flight swung
scarcely twenty feet above the tops of the reeds.

Then, quite unexpectedly to Bobby, and when at its farthest from the
blind, the flock turned in and headed directly for him, its wings set.

Bobby caught his breath, and his heart commenced to thump violently. Not
a bird of them all seemed to move, and yet with the rush of a railroad
train each individual grew in size like magic. It was just like
coasting--the same breathless headlong feeling--that quivering avalanche
of ducks projected at his head so abruptly and so swiftly that he hardly
had time to wink. Nearer and nearer they came, larger and larger they
grew. Something inside him seemed to expand like a bubble with their
approach; like a bubble too rapidly blown, so that at once, without
warning, the bursting point seemed to be reached. Instinctively Bobby
shrank back. The moment of collision was imminent. Nothing could stop
this headlong flight of living arrows launched against his very face.
And then, in a flash, the appearance of the flock changed.