As I got up and dropped another stick or two on our fire, Ted spoke up quite cheerfully, “Jack, let me tell you just what this made me think of. You know the other night when I was down at that country dance, I ran across one of the sweetest French dolls it has ever been my pleasure to meet. She was a real little bird of life, and the more I danced with her the more I wanted to, and really I began to think I held a hand bigger than a foot. Finally as we were standing on the corner, awaiting our turn to swing, she nudged me and as I leaned over she whispered in my ear, ‘Mr. Miner, don’t you think if you were to trade your cowhide boots off for a pair of light shoes it would be easier on this man’s white ash floor?’”
About the next suggestion was to eat our lunch so as not to be bothered with it in the morning. This piece of work was eagerly accomplished, only the programme was altogether too short at the one end, as I could almost feel the pieces of dead hog and hunks of bread strike the log I was sitting on. However we were compelled to be satisfied.
As we sat there watching the sparks disappear into the darkness we could hear the lonely hoot of the owl in the distance; and the swish-sh, swish-sh-sh-sh, of the small waves on the lake a few rods to the south of us; and from the slough to the north came the faint creak-k, creak-k-k-k, of the little spring frogs, as much as to say, “Go to sleep. Go to sleep.” All at once Ted’s voice rang out, “Wake up, Jack!” and really our surroundings were so completely covered in with Nature she had closed my eyes and I did not know it. Shortly the wind started moaning through the cedars, and we imagined we could feel a change in the atmosphere, and brother suggested we crawl in under our boat and have a sleep. So we straightened the soft cedar boughs around as best we could on the dry sand, crawled in, letting the boat down over us. We wrapped ourselves around each other very closely. The next I knew I was lying on my side with brother’s warm arms around me, but my eyes were open and I imagined I could see light under the boat; so I raised it up. Ted spoke first, “Jack, look at the snow!” And really the sight almost caused one to doubt his own eyes, for everything was hanging with snow; the only bare spot was the small pile of smouldering ashes; those cowhide boots were simply snowed full. To make bad matters worse the wind was in the north and it was still snowing.
Well, we knocked it out of our boots the best we could and put them on. While I was fixing and blowing smoke in my eyes out of the fire, trying to get it started, Ted knocked the snow off his gun and went to see if the decoys were all right, and before I got the blaze going I heard “Bang!” I only thought he was trying to dry his gun out, but presently I heard “Bang!” again. Then I knocked the snow off my shooting outfit and made fresh tracks toward him. I found him quite excited. “Jack, hurry! The ducks are coming by the thousands!” There were about fifty or more in the decoys when I came. “Look! Here they come again! Get in the ‘blind’ and keep your red head down!” and he continued pricking dry powder in the tube of his gun with a pin. As about twenty-five ducks hovered to alight we rose up and lit into them. That is, he did, and down came three; but my old gun just went “Snap! Snap!”
Ted sprang to his feet and said, “Prick some dry powder in the tubes of your gun while I go and get the boat,” and just as I was in the middle of this operation brother shouted from the edge of the cedars, “Jack, get ready; here they come again.” So I slipped a cap on each tube, but none too quickly, for the ducks were upon me. “Snap! Bang!” and down came a big red-headed drake. Brother fairly ran with the boat on his shoulders, a paddle in one hand; and then the real fun began, for it wasn’t a case of looking for ducks, but how fast could we load those old soft coal burners and get the fuse started. Although some of the decoys were half covered with snow, yet the ducks would alight right among them while we were standing up loading our guns; really the snowy air seemed full of them, and we had the pleasure of seeing five tumble out of one flock.
Soon our empty powder horns compelled us to stop shooting; but this did not stop the sport by any means, for there we lay low in our “blind” and watched and studied these migrating birds, as flock after flock settled down among our decoys, until I firmly believe there were over two hundred blue-bills, canvas-backs, red-heads, golden-eyes, ruddies and so forth, within gunshot of our hiding place.
But like lots of other good times, it had to come to a close and about eight o’clock the storm ceased, it cleared off and the ducks got wise and scarce.
So we picked up the decoys and hid them in the dry sand, carried our boat to its hiding place, and about 10 a.m. we shouldered our thirty-seven ducks and started for home.
The snow was now nearly all melted on the road, leaving the clay so sticky that we decided to go home through the woods and fields. But our heavy load of ducks and the spongy fields made our travelling real hard work, and our progress was of the very slowest character. The farther we went, the slower our gait, for our steam was gradually running down. And how we thought of the basket of grub dear mother wanted us to take! Finally we crossed the last road and the next house to become visible was ours. How high some of those old rail fences did seem, and how my stomach did gnaw for just one bit of food! Talk about Esau selling his birthright for a plate of porridge! really there was such an aching void in me I would willingly have given my birthright, or birth-wrong, for just one handful of corn-mush and pork grease.
As we neared the house mother came to meet us. Glancing over her glasses, she said, “Are you hungry boys? Let me carry some of your ducks. How many did you get? Aren’t they beauties! Now sit down, boys, and I will have your lunch ready in a few minutes.” Just then the old clock said “Three.” Here we had been nearly five hours coming that many miles.