"Just a little further," said Sam, in scarcely audible tones; "then, oh my, what a supper we may have."
"Don't talk," admonished Bob.
He took a long survey through his field-glass.
"Wood-ducks," he whispered, in a scarcely audible voice.
Sam's eyes sparkled. With the utmost care, he followed in Bob's footsteps.
The two finally concealed themselves in the midst of a patch of tall, rank grass and reeds. Not daring to even whisper, they slowly crawled forward, never, for an instant, exposing any part of their bodies to view.
Both being good shots, it looked as if their patience would be rewarded.
But, to their consternation, just at the critical moment, when they were well within range, a shot rang out loudly, followed by a perfect fusillade of others.
The ducks, with cries of alarm, arose en masse, flying swiftly away, while Bob and Sam jumped to their feet, in the greatest disappointment.
"Those miserable fellows again!" exclaimed the former, angrily.