He pointed inland, to where there was a clearing among the trees, probably some marshy spot. Several wild ducks were settling down, and in a few seconds they were out of sight.
"Want to go ashore?" asked Giant, who was rowing.
"I don't think so," answered Snap. "Perhaps we'll see some of them on the lake."
"I see three now!" called Whopper softly, and pointed almost dead ahead.
"Turn the boat into the bushes," ordered the leader of the club, and Giant did as commanded. Snap was already reaching for a shotgun, and Whopper and Shep did likewise.
The wild ducks had settled on the bosom of the lake and were paddling in the direction of the rowboat. They came on slowly, however, and the young hunters could scarcely wait until they got within gunshot. Giant still had the oars and now he dropped one rather loudly on the bow. At once one of the ducks took alarm and arose in the air.
"They are flying away!" yelled Shep, and raised his shotgun. Bang! spoke the weapon, and reports from the two other firearms followed. One of the ducks came down heavily, while a second fluttered around badly wounded. The third flew off, apparently untouched.
"We must get that second one!" cried Snap, and fired once more. But the wounded duck had reached the cover of some bushes and was not hit again. The rowboat was hastily turned in the direction and Snap and Whopper leaped ashore. Then the duck tried to fly but a shot from Whopper's firearm laid it low. Soon the boys had both ducks on board and were examining the game.
"They are pretty plump," was Snap's comment, and he uttered the words with satisfaction.
"Not so bad for the first day's record," said Giant. "Fish and ducks."