e different events of the day.

"To-morrow," said he, "I'm going to shoot a lot."

"Thought you weren't going to-morrow," suggested Mr. Kincaid.

Bobby smiled shamefacedly.

"That's all right, Bobby," said Mr. Kincaid kindly. "Supper makes a big
difference to any of us, especially after a long day."

Curly received with gratitude the few scraps and three dog biscuits. The
guns were cleaned and oiled. All the ducks were tied in bunches by their
necks and hung from hooks on the north side of the hut. Bobby held the
heads together while Mr. Kincaid slipped the loops over them. Both
counted. Bobby made it eighty-four; while Mr. Kincaid's tally was only
eighty-three.

"Enough, anyway," said the latter.

Then Bobby suddenly found himself so extraordinarily drowsy that he
actually fell asleep while taking off his shoes. Mr. Kincaid put him to
bed. Outside, the wind howled, the water lapped against the float.
Inside, the shadows leaped and fell. But Bobby did not even dream of
ducks.

XII

THE TRESPASSERS

One day as Bobby and Mr. Kincaid were walking along looking for
squirrels in the high open woods, Duke, who was always required to trail
at heel for fear of alarming the game, became very uneasy. He dropped
back a few steps, and attempted to escape from control on either side;
he tried to get ahead--with always a deprecating side-glance at his
masters; he begged in his best dog fashion.

"He acts like birds," said Mr. Kincaid. "Hie on, Duke!"

Immediately Duke sprang away, the impulse of his suddenly released
energy projecting him ten feet at a bound. But at once he slowed down.
Step by step he drew ahead, his beautiful feathered tail sweeping slowly
from side to side, his delicate nostrils expanding and contracting, his
fine intelligent eye roving here and there. He stopped. His head dropped
to the level of his back and stretched straight out ahead. His tail
stiffened. Gently he raised one hind leg just off the ground. His eye
glazed with an inner concentration, and the trace of slaver moistened
the edges of his black and shining lips.

Mr. Kincaid cocked his gun and stepped forward.

"He's just beyond that dead log, Bobby," he said quietly.

Bobby watched with all his eyes. One, two, three steps Mr. Kincaid
advanced. Now he was abreast of Duke. The setter merely stiffened a
trifle more. Bobby's heart was beating rapidly. The whole sunlit autumn
world of woodland seemed waiting in a breathless susp