and he was up the instant it
rang, and pulling my boy out of bed, where he would rather have stayed
than shot the largest mallard duck in the world. They raked the ashes
off the bed of coals in the fireplace, and while the embers ticked and
bristled, and flung out little showers of sparks, they hustled on their
clothes, and ran down the back stairs into the yard with their guns.
Tip, the dog, was already waiting for them there, for he seemed to know
they were going that morning, and he began whimpering for joy, and
twisting himself sideways up against them, and nearly wagging his tail
off; and licking their hands and faces, and kissing their guns all
over; he was about crazy. When they started, he knew where they were
going, and he rushed ahead through the silent little sleeping town, and
led the way across the wide Commons, where the cows lay in dim bulks on
the grass, and the geese waddled out of his way with wild clamorous
cries, till they came in sight of the Reservoir. Then Tip fell back with
my boy and let the elder brother go ahead, for he always had a right to
the first shot; and while he dodged down behind the bank, and crept
along to the place where the ducks usually were, my boy kept a hold on
Tip's collar, and took in the beautiful mystery of the early morning.
The place so familiar by day was estranged to his eyes in that pale
light, and he was glad of old Tip's company, for it seemed a time when
there might very well be ghosts about. The water stretched a sheet of
smooth, gray silver, with little tufts of mist on its surface, and
through these at last he could see the ducks softly gliding to and fro,
and he could catch some dreamy sound from them. His heart stood still
and then jumped wildly in his breast, as the still air was startled with
the rush of wings, and the water broke with the plunge of other flocks
arriving. Then he began to make those bets with himself that a boy hopes
he will lose: he bet that his brother would not hit any of them; he bet
that he did not even see them; he bet that if he did see them and got a
shot at them, they would not come back so that he could get a chance
himself to kill any. It seemed to him that he had to wait an hour, and
just when he was going to hollo, and tell his brother where the ducks
were, the old smoothbore sent out a red flash and a white puff before he
heard the report; Tip tore loose from his grasp; and he heard the
splashing rise of the ducks, and the hurtli