Evening star., 1947-01-05

see how high 1t goes on your
boots"
Josh sloshed across quickly, the
water never half way to his knees.
started over all too cautiously.
On my fifth step I couldn't pick
up my left foot. 7 put my full
weight on my right foot-then
I couldn't pick up that foot
either. I could feel myself sink
ing in the oozy bottom.
Friendship Gets Water Test
Almost Up to Authors Vest
"Josh," called, you gotta
get me out of this"
Josh came back. He had known
what would happen to me. Josh
is a trim little fellow of las
pounds. I am foot 2 and
weigh close to 200. T got to
laughing at Josh's efforts to pull
me out. I was only concerned
about the borrowed eiderdown
jacket Josh said he would get
a plank and disappeared. 1t never
occurred to me he would find
one. I could feel the water run
ming over my boot tops. 1t was
cold. The boots filled and the
water was getting around my
hips. Josh returned with a plank
Ikept nearby for rescue, no
doubt and I managed to get out
with his help.
Back on the marsh, couldn't
walk with a gallon in each boot,
so sat down and let Josh give
me a bootjack. That tipped me
over on my back and the water
from the boots ran up my spine.
T walked in stocking feet. Fortu-
nately (and according to plan) I
was only about 200 yards from
the houseboat.
I still thought Josh was my
friend. But while I was stripping
in front of the stove in the guides
boat, he went over to the next
boat and summoned the photog-
rapher, which temporarily broke
up the card game. When Johnny
Mueller, veteran Star lensman.
appeared camera in hand, the
guides tried to hold me. Fortu-
nately Johnny acted like every
news photographer I have ever
seen. They watch the action
then they ask the actor to do it
over again. I broke away and
found sanctuary under the COW
ers in Sticks bed. There was no
picture; I refused to do it over
again.
The excitement over, Mitch was
going to bed.
"And I've got to get up before
g." said Mitch with a yawn, "to
60 out in the blinds with a lot
of goops who don't know damn
thing about handling a gun"
Mitch" said I, "be tactful
I'm still here"
Oh, Yes, the Duck Hunting
Dur Host Got 8 for 3
And the duck hunting?
1t was hardly worth mention
ing. Some one ratified the stove
at s. The colored cook had bis
cults and bacon and eggs ready.
Nit Collins, our host; Slick Brad
ford and I showed off in an out
board motor boat at 6:45 for the
north blind. John Marsh, Jim
Councillor and Josh Bunting went
to the other. One of the big Ches-
apeake Bay retrievers was in each
boat. Mitch took Glib Crockett,
the artist, and the photographer,
hunting for pictures.
It was fun for a newcomer at
the sport to hear the geese yap-
ping and the swans whooping
behind us in the cove: to listen
to pairs of goldeneyes (they make
a whistling sound with their
Wings go flying by low over the
water and well beyond gun shot
but the ducks just weren't flying.
The day was balmy and the de-
coys out in front weren't even
rocking. A fight of blue bills
(lesser scaup) did circle us about
9 o'clock but we held our fire
hoping they would stool. They
flew away.
"A flight of three on the right"
cautioned Slick about an hour
later. He pursed his lips and
emitted his duck call-"Brrp,
brrp, brrp!" The ducks circled
and pitched in from the left.
Nit blazed away three times with
his automatic shotgun and there
we're three ducks out in front. I
kept my resolve not to fire the
first time to observe how it was
done.
What are they?" I asked.
Little dippers," said Slick.
They're a protected duck. I
should have told you but I rec
ognized them too late"
suspected that statement. No