"Bring us the fattest bird in the flock," shouted Uncle Will, as they departed; "and we'll have a royal supper." So saying, he fell to mending the gee-pole of his sled. With David's assistance, the pole was soon as good as new. "Now," said Uncle Will, "where's your rifle, Dave?" "Packed on my sled." "Go and get it. I saw some ducks in a stretch of open water back here, and maybe we can do a little hunting on our own account." This proposal tickled David immensely. He brought the rifle and a handful of cartridges, and the two set off in a direction not quite parallel to that taken by Mr. Bradford and Roly. A half-mile walk brought them in sight of the ducks, five of them, near the icy edge of a small opening; and by lying flat on the ice, they were able to creep and slide toward them under cover of a clump of tall reeds. At length Uncle Will whispered to David to take careful aim at one of them and fire. David was already sighting along the gun-barrel--his finger on the trigger--when the report of Roly's shot-gun rang out behind a small thicket of willows. The ducks at once took flight, to David's great disappointment, but at the same moment the geese appeared, flying in a confused manner directly toward their ambush. "Quick, Dave, give me the gun," cried Uncle Will. David instantly passed it over, and wonderingly watched his uncle as he tossed it up to his shoulder. "Bang!" went the rifle, and down tumbled a big bird from the centre of the flock,--as fine a fat goose as ever graced a table. David fairly danced with delight. "There!" said Uncle Will, with a merry twinkle in his eye; "I'll wager that this was the very goose Roly meant to kill." "Don't you think he shot any, then?" asked David. "I fancy the chances are he didn't." And so it proved, when the four hunters reunited and compared notes. David described his uncle's marksmanship with great enthusiasm, and Mr. Bradford and Roly were quite ready to admit the brilliance of the feat. In two places, next morning, the stream, on whose frozen surface they travelled, broadened into lakelets, where progress over the smooth ice was rapid and easy, but as soon as these were passed and the stream narrowed again, difficulties appeared. Water was beginning to flow over the ice through numerous cracks, and as the day advanced, many openings had to be avoided. Often the centre of the river was wholly free from ice, only a narrow strip remaining along each bank. In such cases, they proceeded with great caution. The banks themselves were usually impassable, by reason of thickets and trees, and the ice-strips offered the only highway, but they were tilted at such an angle that the sleds were constantly slipping sideways toward the water. At the worst spots the united efforts of the party were required to move each load safely past.