Pretty soon along came our young hero with the piece of tin, tiptoeing across the bridge, very excited and mysterious.
I said, “What’s the matter now? Are we supposed to follow your lead when you do that? Wait till we have something to eat first.”
“Don’t talk about anything to eat,” he whispered; “we’re going to have a feast, we’re going to have a banquet, we’re going to have roast duck. Shh! Here, take this tin. Look over there in the marshes. See? Almost under the end of the bridge? Do you see that streak of white? Shh! That’s a duck. He’s caught in the branches of that—shh!”
We all tiptoed very softly about half-way across the bridge and leaned way over the railing at the place that he pointed out to us under the other end. There was an old fallen tree there and some of its branches were sticking out of the water. In among them was a duck. I guessed he must have been caught there. It seemed as if he didn’t see us or hear us, so I thought he must be caught there in some way because ducks are so suspicious.
“Mm-mmm!” I said. “I can just taste him.”
“Looks good to me,” Garry said.
“Talk low,” said Bert.
“Go back and wait, I’m going to get him,” the kid said. “I was the one to discover him.”
“I don’t care who gets him as long as I can eat him,” I said.
“We’ll roast him, hey?” the kid whispered. “Go back and wait.”