"How's the portaging?" yelled Bob, as soon as Pud came in sight.
"Fine," said Pud. "But I have a crease here in the back of my neck that will be sore for a week."
They were soon off again, with Bob leading. The lake opened out and they found themselves in a stretch that gleamed a good mile ahead of them. All at once Bob slowed down and Mr. Anderson called on the boys to stop paddling.
"He sees something," said Mr. Anderson.
All eyes were on Mr. Waterman as he got his gun ready. Over to the left the boys saw three ducks swimming, and they knew that this was the reason for their stop. "Bang!" went the gun, and one of the ducks toppled over, but the other two disappeared as if by magic.
"Pick up the bird," yelled Mr. Waterman to Mr. Anderson.
"All right," replied the latter.
Mr. Waterman looked around carefully, and a minute later the two ducks arose to the surface some distance farther on. Bob and he took up their paddles and tried to get within a reasonable distance again. They had scared the birds so that they kept swimming away, keeping out of distance. At last Mr. Waterman laid down his paddle and got his rifle again. This time he missed, for it must be remembered that he was shooting with a rifle and not with a shotgun. It was only after three more trials that he bagged his second duck and it took a good hour longer to get the other one. For some reason the birds did not want to leave the lake and they were all three finally in Mr. Anderson's canoe.
"That will make another fine pot-pie," said Bill.
"We haven't any pot to make it in," said Pud.