"Teacher," he said in awed tones, "sometimes I'm sure you kin see. If you can't see how do you find out things like you do? How did you know I killed jest two ducks?"
"Listened for the splash," Stanhope answered. "Are you loaded, Billy? There's another flock coming."
"All ready but cappin'. Now, where's the flock?"
"Coming up from behind, so Moll says."
"Gosh!" whispered Billy. "I should say so; they're right onto us," and almost with the words the old gun roared again and again.
"Good!" exulted Stanhope. "Three down, Billy!"
"Yep, but one dived an' is gettin' away. After him, Moll." The spaniel, with a joyful whine, cleared the rush wall and splashed into the water. "Fine!" cried Billy, as he reloaded, "Moll's goin' to bring him in."
"Wounded whistlers aren't as hard to retrieve as redhead or bluebill," said Stanhope.
"How did you know they was whistlers?" cried Billy.
"By the sound of their wings, of course," laughed the man. "There," as a small duck flashed past the blind, "that's a green-winged teal, and he's flying at the rate of about ninety miles an hour."