The San Angelo Press

BREAK O' DAY

[(Copyright, 1905, by T. C. McClure.)]

When Preston stepped out into the gray November morning the camp was wrapped in silence. Far away to the east a streak of gold heralded the coming day.

The giant pines stood grim and black against the sky, and the little group of log shelters seemed timid pygmies nestling beneath them for protection.

There was a touch of frost in the air which set the man's teeth chattering. He picked up his gun and strode briskly through the underbrush toward the little pond some rods back of the camp.

It was an ideal morning for black ducks, and unless he was vastly mistaken, he told himself, there should be quite a flock of them paddling about the pond. He jammed a shell into either barrel of the gun, and, snapping the breech shut, he began to move cautiously through the woods, carefully avoiding the broken twigs lest the noise of his footsteps should alarm his quarry.

The last few yards between the camp and the pond he covered on his hands and knees, creeping silently forward and pausing now and then to peer through the half light and listen intently.

When finally he reached the pond the band of gold along the eastern horizon had widened, and the light was considerably stronger. There were the ducks, just as he had expected. In the middle of the pond was a large flock, while close at hand a dozen black figures lay quietly on the surface of the water.

Very cautiously he raised the gun, took a long, cool aim at the nearest birds and pulled the right barrel. To his unbounded amazement not a bird rose from the nearest group. The large flock in the middle of the pond rose with a great flapping of wings and hoarse croaks of alarm. He fired at them with the left barrel, but the distance was too great for the shot to inflict any apparent damage on the retreating flock.

He jumped to his feet and stood staring at the dozen black dots still motionless on the water. To his infinite chagrin, he discovered that those twelve motionless figures were canvas decoys, two of them with gaping sides where his shot had told. He had wasted his ammunition on the decoys, while the ducks themselves had flown away unharmed.

As he turned disgustedly from the pond a peal of merry laughter echoed from the underbrush. He made his way toward the sound and beheld Miss Cuyler seated on the ground, a gun across her knees and tears of merriment streaming down her face. Preston stared at her in amazed helplessness.

"You here?" he muttered incredulously.

The girl held her sides,

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"I made an early start for black ducks, too," she explained, "and while I was waiting for the flock to come in nearer you came stalking along and

am"

She went into another spasm of merriment. "I came - I saw - and, oh, I heard!" she gasped, breathless from laughter.

"You heard?" Preston said in dismay. "I didn't really intend to say that. It slipped out before I thought."

"I see," she said mockingly. "You'd better get the punt and fish out those damaged decoys, or the story of your adventure may get around."

Preston turned to her questioningly.

"Aren't you going to tell the story to the camp?" he asked.

"No," she said smilingly.

He looked at her with undisguised relief.

"You are a trump!" he said emphatically.

She laughed lightly,

"So long as I've frightened all the ducks out of the vicinity with my cannonading I suppose we may as well go back to camp for breakfast," he suggested.

He helped her to her feet, and they trudged back through the underbrush.

Preston noted that she was doubly pretty with her short skirt and shooting jacket and the frosty air bringing out the color in her cheeks. And of course, he told himself bitterly, it must needs be before her of all women in the world that he had made an idiot of himself.

Halfway back to camp the girl turned to him impulsively.

"I'm going to make a confession," she said.

They paused under a tall pine. The first rays of the sun were lighting the tree tops.

"You didn't blow holes in both those decoys," she said. "I fixed the first one just as you did an hour before you came. It was very dark then, you see," she added by way of extenuation.

"You took a shot at the decoys, too?" he cried.

She nodded slowly.

"You are very generous to tell me that," he said, with considerable warmth.

"It's only fair to tell you," she said, and then added: "You looked so funny, and it would make such a beautiful story to tell the camp. Now you have a story on me equally as good. That will hold my tongue in check."

Preston looked at her gratefully.

"I'll tell you what let's do," he said suddenly. "Let's pool our secrets."

"Our duck secrets?" she asked.

"All our secrets," he said, taking her hand and drawing her to him. "Let's establish a community of interests - for two."

The girl's glance dropped.

"If - if you think best" - she began.

"I do," he declared earnestly. "Now we'll go back to camp and announce it. It will make almost as good a story as the one they will never hear."

HARRISON SMITH.