where we stayed was kept by a half-breed guide named Sarpo, and
with him lived his two sons and his second wife, who was a young
white girl, and not a bad looker at that.

The next morning we started out after ducks. I made a horrible
bluff that I was one of the old boys at the business, and that
I was on to everything--till it came to loading my hammerless,
and there's where I went to the bad. I couldn't get the blamed
thing open. Teddy handed me a few of his kind little remarks,
and I got back at him with something personal. He got sore. No
thoroughbred kidder would have grown personal, but I couldn't
think of anything else at the time. There was nothing stirring
in the duck line, and for two hours we sat all hunched up in a
little boat among a lot of weeds. It was getting to be a sad
affair for me, and I was thinking of Atlantic City, and the bands
of music, and the swell dances, and trying to figure where these
hunters have the fun they are always coming home and talking
about, when suddenly along came a drove of ducks. On the square,
there must have been a million. The other members of the party
began picking them off, but your Uncle Bill is one of those wise
shooters. I waited till they were right over my head. Say! they
were so thick I couldn't see the sky. I let go with the first
barrel, right into the center of the bunch. Nit duck. Then the
second barrel went off of its own accord. I'll swear, Jim, I had
nothing whatever to do with it. Anyway, nit duck. I think if I'd
had three barrels on that gun I would have nailed a duck, a duck
and a half, or two ducks, as I was just getting good. I loaded
up, and I must have been flustered a bit, as I blew one of the
decoys clear into the next block.