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Updated: May 29, 2025
The gray daylight was coming stronger every instant. Even while they worked in plain sight, big flocks of teal and blue-bill stooped toward them and whirled around them with a rush of wings. "They're awful close!" whispered Bobby excitedly, "why don't you shoot?" "Hurry!" commanded Mr. Kincaid.
Shiela, riding ahead with Gray, tossed bits of bread into the water; and the little blue-bill ducks came swimming in scores, keeping up with the horses so fearlessly and persistently that the girl turned in her saddle and looked back at her father in delight. "I'm certainly as gifted as the Pied Piper, dad! If they follow me to Ruffle Lake I won't permit a shot to be fired."
They were of many sorts and sizes, and Mr. Kincaid named them to Bobby as he received them. "These are the boys!" said he. "Good old green-heads, Worth all the other ducks put together. Their celery-fed canvasbacks may be better never had a chance to try them but the canvasback in this country can't touch the mallards. And here, these are blue-bill. They come to a decoy almost too easy.
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