water, and then he made out nine black spots.
In a few minutes those Ducks would be where he could
shoot them. “Bang, bang” went that
gun below him again. With a roar of wings, Dusky
and his flock were in the air and away. That
hunter stood up and said things, and they were not
nice things. He knew that those Ducks would
not come back again that night, and that once more
he must go home empty-handed. But first he would
find out who that other hunter was and what luck he
had had, so he tramped down the shore to where that
gun had seemed to be. He found the blind of
Farmer Brown’s boy, but there was no one there.
You see, as soon as he had fired his gun the last
time, Farmer Brown’s boy had slipped out and
away. And as he tramped across the Green Meadows
toward home with his gun, he chuckled. “He
didn’t get those Ducks this time,” said
Farmer Brown’s boy.
CHAPTER XXVII: The Hunter Gives Up
Blacky The Crow didn’t know what to think.
He couldn’t make himself believe that Farmer
Brown’s boy had really turned hunter, yet what
else could he believe? Hadn’t he with his
own eyes seen Farmer Brown’s boy with a terrible
gun hide in rushes along the Big River and wait for
Dusky the Black Duck and his flock to come in?
And hadn’t he with his own ears heard the “bang,
bang” of that very gun?
The very first thing the next morning Blacky had hastened
over to the place where Farmer Brown’s boy had
hidden in the rushes. With sharp eyes he looked
for feathers, that would tell the tale of a Duck killed.
But there were no feathers. There wasn’t
a thing to show that anything so dreadful had happened.
Perhaps Farmer Brown’s boy had missed when
he shot at those Ducks. Blacky shook his head
and decided to say nothing to anybody about Farmer
Brown’s boy and that terrible gun.
You may be sure that early in the afternoon he was
perched in the top of his favorite tree over by the
Big River. His heart sank, just as on the afternoon
before, when he saw Farmer Brown’s boy with his
terrible gun trudging across the Green Meadows to the
Big River. Instead of going to the same hiding
place he made a new one farther down.
Then came the hunter a little earlier than usual.
Instead of stopping at his blind, he walked straight
to the blind Farmer Brown’s boy had first made.
Of course, there was no one there. The hunter
looked both glad and disappointed. He went back
to his own blind and sat down, and while he watched
for the coming of the Ducks, he also watched that
other blind to see if the unknown hunter of the night
before would appear. Of course he didn’t,
and when at last the hunter saw the Ducks coming,
he was sure that this time he would get some of them.
But the same thing happened as on the night before.
Just as those Ducks were almost near enough, a gun
went “bang, bang,” and away went the Ducks.
They didn’t come back again, and once more a
disappointed hunter went home without any.
