The Lexington dispatch. [volume] (Lexington, South Carolina) 1870-1917, 1903-11-04
nallards and not a feather fell.

mallards and not a feather fell.
AS their guns cracked a black swarm
arose further out, rose against the
wind, and streamed away over the
Farmer and his companion. The Icks
were not more than 40 yards high when
they passed above the couple, and the
Journalist turned loose both barrels.
Missing was impossible. Seven blue
bills came raining down. The Farmer
had disdained to shoot. The Engineer
grinned at the Doctor.
First blood for the opposition" he
said.
AS they went on, making as little
noise as possible, they flushed many
ducks. In fact the birds rose every sc
yards OF SO, but all rose some yards
out and all went straight away against
the wind. By the time the Doctor and
the Engineer got up their guns the
birds had added ten yards to the dis
lance and were still climbing.
Realization came to them that they
were in for a hard time, but they re-
fused to surrender hope. They could
hear the guns of their opponents and
now and then see a duck fall, but they
had bagged a half-doxen birds them
selves and believed their luck would
change.
With a splash and a squawk a badly
frightened mallard drake leaped high Is
yards away. It's initial spring carried
it 20 feet in the air. With the wind
bearing against it's breast it stood al
most on it's tail in the air.
They could see it's green head fash
ing like an emerald in the sun and the
reddish feathers at the base Of the
neck and the beautiful blended hues of
the back, wings and tail. They could
ever see for the instant the little
curled feathers at the root of the tale.
1t was a shot which the Farmer
would have made with the right barrel
in two second and thought nothing of
it. His old gun would have jumped
instinctively to his shoulder and the
barrels would have hidden all of the
bird except the very top of its head
and it would have gone dead, hit hard
about the middle.
But the Doctor shot under it with
his right and a yard to one side with
his left, because the drake was both
climbing and spiraling, and the En-
gineer shot away under with both bar
rels as the mallard sailed IN. Seventy
yards high it went against the wind,
DCo4 A3&S2llS2iS0y ~ NI2lSS bCoS1llS
unanimously putting 30 miles an hour
behind it.
Il The pair followed it with anathe-
mas. Then they were conscious that
the farmer had dropped to the ground
opposite them and the Journalist had
initiated him.
A single puff of smoke rose from the
clump Of weeds hiding the Farmer.
It looked to be al impossible shot, yet
the brakes wings shut systematically
and it whirled over and over in it's de-
scent, stone dead long before it's plump
body struck the soft edge Of the marsh.
The Doctor drew a. long breath and
said:
There's something in that No. Is
theory sure"
That was rare shooting on the wind
blown marsh. with the fowls showing
black against the sky and the thunder
of the surf close by and the fresh wind
with the taste of salt in it.. There is
such a thing as sitting in a blind when
birds are thick and butchering them
with right and left barrels and such
q thing as walking them up, when the
wariness Of the swift creatures and
the cover in which they hide and the
wind are all in their favor, and the lat
ter much more closely approaches
true sport. That day the houseboat
party got duck shooting at it's best,
for the shots were often difficult and
not too numerous.
The rival pairs met at the end Of the
marsh and the scores stood: Farmer
and Journalist, ten mallards, eight
b%luebills, three sprigs and five teal;
Doctor and Engineer, n mallard, two
sprigs and ten teal.
Alphonse gave them a good dinner
that ~night-gumbo flet reddish stuffed
with oysters, roast mallards dressed
with peppered olives, a salad, cheese
and black coffee; but what is a good
dinner to men who have to rise from
table and schrub flannel shirts stiff
enough to stand alone? In the yellow
light Of the oil lamp the Doctor and
the Engineer, bumped over the tubs
with old = fashioned w~aShboards,
scrubbed and scrubbed, while the
Farmer, at s on the divan, smoked
perique cigarettes, and the Journalist,
sucking a cob pipe, between puffs re-
cited them reams Of his own poetry.