"We are sorry for what occurred," interposed Bob Somers, at this point, addressing Mr. Burr, "but you made a mistake in acting so hastily."
"Well, then, what d'ye mean by this piece of business?"
"Well, we took the birds for wild ducks, strange as it may appear," drawled Nat, who had witnessed his friend's discomfiture without much apparent evidence of pain. The speaker began to laugh. "Say," he exclaimed, "do you keep a duckery or a quackery?"
"Ha, ha, ha," roared the big man, slapping his knees, while his wife and son joined in. "Ha, ha, ha, wild ducks! 'Pon my word, wild ducks! Did you ever hear the beat of it?"
"The mistake was a natural one," said Bob, calmly. "We had no idea that anybody lived around here."
"But I never heard of decoy ducks being shot at."
"Probably not," volunteered Nat, glibly. "I tell you, Mr. Burr, the circumstances were unusual. Those two or three real quackers were so much like the wooden ones that you ought to have a 'don't shoot' sign put up."
"Think those decoys were pretty good, then?" inquired the slim youth.
"Bang up," said Nat, unable to repress a laugh at his own humor. "That's the reason we fired at them."
"I made 'em myself," continued the slim youth. "Pop says he never seen such good ones."