idle, put his hobbles on again, rubbed my cheek
against his warm, moist nose, and left him. An hour before daylight
he stepped quietly inside and stood near the fire--the mosquitoes were
annoying him, and he had come in to get the benefit of what little smoke
was arising from the burning logs.

At dawn, as I lay half-awake, I heard a sound that made me jump to my
gun--the soft quacking of wild duck in the creek. Stealing cautiously
down through the fringe of she-oaks, I came to a fine broad pool, in the
centre of which was a small sandbank, whereon stood a black duck with
a brood of seven half-fledged ducklings around her, dabbling merrily
amongst the weed and _debris_ of the margin. Of course, no one who
_thinks_, unless impelled by sheer hunger, would shoot either an
incubating or "just familied" duck, and I laid down my gun with an
exclamation of disappointment. But I was soon to be rewarded, for
a minute or two later five beautiful black and white Burdekin ducks
flashed down through the vista of she-oaks, and settled on the water
less than thirty yards away from me. They lit so closely together that
my first barrel killed two, and my second dropped one of the others as
they rose. I waded in and brought them ashore.*

* The name "Burdekin" hat been given to these ducks became
they are to common on the river of that name. Their wings
are pure white and black.

I wonder how many people know how to cook and eat wild duck as they
should be cooked and eaten--when they are plentiful, and when the man
who shoots them is, in his way, a gourmet, and is yet living away from
civilisation and restaurants? This is _the_ way. Pluck the feathers
off the breast and body, then cut the breast part out, sprinkle it
with salt, impale it upon a stick--if you have a stick or branch of
any kind--and hold it over a fire of glowing wood coals. If you have
no skewer, then lay the red, luscious-looking flesh upon the coals
themselves, and listen to it singing and fizzing, as if it were
impatiently crying out to you to take it up and eat it!

When I returned, the sunrays were piercing through the gum-trees and
dissipating a thin mist which hung about the green, winding fringe of
she-oaks bordering the creek. From the ground, which now felt soft,
warm, and springy to my naked foot, there came that sweet earthy smell
that arises when the land has lain for long, long months under a sky of
brass, and all green things have struggl