It was fully noon by the time they reached the edge of the Marshes, wide stretches of lowlands, dotted here and there with clumps of bushes. At a great distance they heard gunshots, but failed to discover the gunners.
They tramped on to a point where Jack Dalton had said the wild ducks were apt to be found. The wind was coming up, and out in this wide open plain it cut like a knife.
"We won't want to stay out here more than an hour or two," said Shep.
"My backbone feels like an icicle!"
"Do you know what I think?" said Giant. "I think it is going to snow."
"So do I," came from Whopper.
A few minutes later the first flakes fell, and fearful that the snow would interfere with their sight of any wild ducks they hurried forward until they reached a circle of bushes Jack Dalton had mentioned.
"Wait, I see some ducks!" cried Giant. "See, they are rising and coming this way!"
"Be quick!" cried Snap, and brought around his shotgun. The others also aimed their weapons, and as the wild ducks sailed almost over them they let drive in a scattering volley. Two of the ducks were killed outright and came straight down, while a third circled around badly wounded. The others swept out of range before any harm could be done to them.
"We've got two, anyway," said Shep.
"I'm going after that wounded one!" cried Whopper, and went off on his snowshoes behind the fluttering game. The duck touched the snow and then arose again and did this several times. Giant followed Whopper, bound to get the third duck if it was possible to do so.