There he yawned,
discharged both barrels of his gun in the general direction of the
ducks, yawned again, and went back to bed.
I myself went on a hunting-excursion on the second day at Lyman Lake.
Now, theoretically, I am a mighty hunter. I have always expected to
shoot something worth while and be photographed with my foot on it, and
a "bearer"--whatever that may be--holding my gun in the background. So
when Mr. Fred proposed an early start and a search along the side of
Chiwawa Mountain for anything from sheep to goats, including a grizzly
if possible, my imagination was roused. So jealous were we that the
first game should be ours that the party was kept a profound secret. Mr.
Fred and Mrs. Fred, the Head, and I planned it ourselves.
We would rise early, and, armed to the teeth, would stalk the skulking
bear to his den.
Rising early is also a theory of mine. I approve of it. But I do not
consider it rising early to get up at three o'clock in the morning.
Three o'clock in the morning is late at night. The moon was still up. It
was frightfully cold. My shoes were damp and refused to go on.
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