"None of that, now. And don't believe I can do that sort of work
right along. Next time it may be a clean double miss. Ducks are
unreliable things. I've known the best of shots to miss, time and
again. Ralph, step up and toe the mark. You're next on the
docket," laughed Frank, as he hastily replaced the discharged
shells with fresh ones.

"Better retrieve your game while the balance of us keep a lookout.
Otherwise we'll get things mixed, and perhaps lose some of it.
Did you mark the places?" said the host of the little hunt.

"Oh! yes, I always do that. It gets to be a habit with any fellow
who hunts much. I think they fell dead, so I oughtn't to have much
trouble," replied Frank.

"Beware the oozy spots along the border of the marsh. I've had no
end of trouble getting stuck instead of duck," called out Bones,
as the other moved away, carrying his gun along with him as a wise
hunter always does.

Just as he retrieved the second victim to his accuracy he heard a
single shot, and a heavy body fell not ten feet away. Ralph had
dropped his first duck also.

"There you are," remarked Frank, throwing the three birds down, as
he returned to the rendezvous; "and they do certainly look fine
and plump. Reckon you have quite a few muskrats in this old marsh
of yours, Bones. I saw a lot of houses in the water, made of
sticks and trash?"