Then the temperature began to fall. The thermometer went to 29 degrees
before morning. Wherever there was a thin surface of water, there was
ice.

We did not get out very early. It is not necessary at Warner's. The
ducks fly from lake to lake when disturbed. If too heavily bombarded
they leave the valley. We breakfasted about 7 o'clock. Taking our guns
and ammunition, we started out over the frosty roads for the lakes. As
we reached the lower ground the frost was heavier. I found the surface
of one small lake solidly frozen. At the larger lakes there was just a
little ice on the edges. We distributed our men to the various lakes,
and the shooting began.

Say, neighbor, did you ever hunt those big mountain canvasback? If you
have, you know the story. If you have not, I am afraid I can not give
you a correct impression of it. Sitting in a frozen blind, all at once
you hear the whirring of wings, far off in the sky. Before you can
locate the source of it, "Swish!" an old Can goes by. You look at the
streak of light he leaves in the atmosphere. Then you hear another
far-off alarm. You seize your gun as the gray mark passes overhead at
about 125 miles an hour. You shoot at it and realize that you have shot
just fifty feet behind it. Another one comes by. Bang! again goes the
gun. You have done a little better this time, but you are yet not less
than thirty feet in the rear. Again you try it. Just a few feathers fly.
You are alarmed now, and there comes to you the admonition of an old
duck hunter, who laid down the following three rules for duck shooting,
viz:

"First, lead them considerably.