He walked forward rapidly but quietly, and presently he reached the edge of the bank. Up flew Blacky cawing wildly, and pretending to be scared half to death. Again Farmer Brown's boy chuckled. “You're just making believe,” he declared. “You're trying to make me believe that I have surprised you, when all the time you knew I was coming and have been waiting for me. Now, what have you found over here?”
He looked eagerly along the shore, and at once he saw a row of low bushes close to the edge of the water. He knew what it was instantly. “A Duck blind!” he exclaimed. “A hunter has built a blind over here from which to shoot Ducks. I wonder if he has killed any yet. I hope not.” He went down to the blind, for that is what a Duck hunter's hiding-place is called, and looked about. A couple of grains of corn just inside the blind caught his eyes, and his face darkened. “That fellow has been baiting Ducks,” thought he. “He has been putting out corn to get them to come here regularly. My, how I hate that sort of thing! It is bad enough to hunt them fairly, but to feed them and then kill them—ugh! I wonder if he has shot any yet.”
He looked all about keenly, and his face cleared. He knew that if that hunter had killed any Ducks, there would be tell-tale feathers in the blind, and there were none.
CHAPTER XXIV: Farmer Brown's Boy Does Some Thinking
Farmer Brown's boy sat on the bank of the Big River in a brown study. That means that he was thinking very hard. Blacky the Crow sat in the top of a tall tree a short distance away and watched him. Blacky was silent now, and there was a knowing look in his shrewd little eyes. In calling Farmer Brown's boy over there, he had done all he could, and he was quite satisfied to leave the matter to Farmer Brown's boy.
“A hunter has made that blind to shoot Black Ducks from,” thought Farmer Brown's boy, “and he has been baiting them in here by scattering corn for them. Black Ducks are about the smartest Ducks that fly, but if they have been coming in here every evening and finding corn and no sign of danger, they probably think it perfectly safe here and come straight in without being at all suspicious. To-night, or some night soon, that hunter will be waiting for them.
“I guess the law that permits hunting Ducks is all right, but there ought to be a law against baiting them in. That isn't hunting. No, Sir, that isn't hunting. If this land were my father's, I would know what to do. I would put up a sign saying that this was private property and no shooting was allowed. But it isn't my father's land, and that hunter has a perfect right to shoot here. He has just as much right here as I have. I wish I could stop him, but I don't see how I can.”
A frown puckered the freckled face of Farmer Brown's boy. You see, he was thinking very hard, and when he does that he is very apt to frown.
“I suppose,” he muttered, “I can tear down his blind. He wouldn't know who did it. But that wouldn't do much good; he would build another. Besides, it wouldn't be right. He has a perfect right to make a blind here, and having made it, it is his and I haven't any right to touch it. I won't do a thing I haven't a right to do. That wouldn't be honest. I've got to think of some other way of saving those Ducks.”