“But, as the swamp fills up and the land makes, won’t they disappear?”
“No, sir; the swamp isn’t filling up; but the land is sinking, or the water rising—either one or the other; for the swamp is growing larger. The trees on the island are being killed by the water—some are dead already; and every year more high land becomes meadow, and the meadow turns into swamp.”
“I thought the Western lakes were growing shallow, and receding yearly.”
“Not here, sir. Why, that long spit of reeds beyond Grassy Point was dry land once, so that you could drive a team clear over to Squaw Island; there were large trees on it, but they are all dead, and the channel between it and the island is six feet deep.”
“All the better for us sportsmen. Have you any other valuable animals besides the rats?”
“A few otter; but not many. No, sir; the ducks are the most valuable things we have.”
“They will soon be killed off.”
“No, sir; as there is no shooting allowed in the spring they are becoming more plentiful. They are tamer, too; and some stay here all summer and breed. It was the spring shooting, when they were poor and thin, that killed them off or drove them away.”
“How many birds can a good shot average daily the season through?”
“I think I can kill forty a day, but perhaps there are some men who can shoot better. But now, sir, if you will choose your stand, I will go a little way below.”