BATTLE WITH
BLUE-PETER.
The battle raged all that day and the next, blue-peter diving at the flash of the gun, and defiantly coming up and wailing for it to be reloaded.
STRUCK IT WITH A CLUB.
THE CONQUEROR.
On the morning of the third day, our Nimrod was late. When he arrived, the duck was there patiently waiting to renew the fight, and was busily engaged picking the shot from the bottom of the pond, tossing it up and catching it in its bill as it came down. With such a gunner and such game, this might last a week. Strategy was resorted to, and when blue-peter went under at the flash, our hero waded out and struck it with a club as it came to the surface. The victory was not to the duck. Late that evening Steve and Jacob were seen carrying from the landing to the house the dead B. P., strung by the neck to the centre of a ten-foot pole, one pall-bearer at each end, and the conqueror leading the procession. On his arrival he was greeted by his fellow members with that distinguished consideration which our people so freely accord to actors of great deeds.
We remained on the beach four weeks, and had many pleasant days. We have now returned to our respective homes, wearied in body but refreshed in mind, well pleased with our trip, with each other, and with a decided inclination for a repetition of the jaunt.
