WHEN TIG was a boy and used to play at hunting, the chief of his friends was Berog. Berog and he were of the same age and equal in strength; and, though Tig was the better marksman with the bow and arrow, Berog had the greater skill with the sling. By this time they were both tall and strong lads. Each of them had been out hunting several times with the men, and sometimes they had made little expeditions by themselves. But once in the autumn, after the corn had been gathered in, they planned to have a real hunt of their own. They saved some food to take with them, but not much, because men always hunt best when they are hungry. Tig had a new, full-sized bow, that he had made himself, and his quiver full of flint-headed arrows, and his stone axe slung at his side. Berog had his sling and a bag full of smooth, round stones, and in his hand he carried a club. And so they set out together. They did not want to be seen, so they followed a track into the forest that was not much used by the men of the village. The sun had not yet risen; the air was keen, and white mists hung about the hills. Their plan was to make first for the swamps in the valley, so as to get a shot at some of the birds that lived among the reed beds. They had explored the way before, and had marked trees or laid guide stones where the track was doubtful; and so they lost no time in getting down the valley. As they crossed the hill-side, they saw two hares cantering away across the open ground, and Berog slung a stone or two at them, but without success. When they came to the thickets at the bottom, they walked warily, for they saw the track of a wild boar, and they had no wish to meddle with him. Birds of many kinds were seen. Away over the water ducks were flying high in a trail; kites and buzzards soared higher still; and far away in the distance, like a silvery flag against the sky, some wild swans were coming over. Grebes and coots were swimming about in a backwater of the river seen through the reeds, and a great grey heron rose from the swamp ahead of the boys, and flapped away, uttering a loud squawk. [Illustration: The Wild Ducks] The boys crouched among the reeds. Tig fitted an arrow to his bow, and Berog put a stone into the web of his sling. So they waited for a long time without moving. All at once the sound of rushing wings was heard, and then a splash and rush of water, as a skein of wild ducks flew down near by. The boys waited eagerly, and in a moment three ducks appeared, swimming out from behind a clump of reeds. Tig shot and missed, and his arrow struck up a spurt of water. Berog slung a stone at the birds as they rose, and hit one, which fell quacking and scattering feathers upon the water. At once Berog tucked up his sark, and waded out to capture the duck; but it was only wounded, and was too quick for him, and made its escape among the thick reed beds.