The man nodded. Pete looked again at the drake in his hand. “Oh!” he said. The dog growled and Allan observed that the man’s gun was cocked and that it was held in a position that was far from reassuring. Pete regarded the man with a puzzled expression. “Look here, partner,” he asked, “are those _tame_ ducks?” “They are, sir.” Pete’s face cleared; a grin overspread his features, and he chuckled aloud as he waded back to shore. “You seem amused?” said the man, politely but with a note of interrogation. “Well, I’m mighty relieved, as the broncho said when he bucked the man off. You see, I thought they were wild ducks, and when they wouldn’t fly, I was afraid they were degenerating. Of course, as they were tame ducks, it’s all right.” Pete waded out of the water and the setter laid back his ears and growled suspiciously. “Hello, dog!” said Pete, as he went toward where he had deposited his shoes, stockings, and rifle. “Just stay where you are, please!” said the man. He waved toward Pete’s possessions. The dog trotted over to them and stood guard, watching their owner intently. Pete’s grin broadened. He tossed down the duck he had rescued. “There’s another out there,” he said. “Guess the dog could get it, couldn’t he?” “Where do you gentlemen belong?” asked the man. The gentlemen exchanged glances. Then-- “Centerport,” answered Allan. “Students?” “Yes, sir.” “Humph!” said the owner of the ducks. “Want me to believe you thought my ducks were wild ones, do you?” “You don’t suppose we’d walk six miles to shoot tame ones, do you?” asked Pete, scathingly. The man shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose you’re ready to pay for the pair you’ve shot?” “Glad to,” answered Pete. “How much?” “Well, I guess a dollar will do. They were both Pekins.” “Can’t say I’ve had a dollar’s worth of sport,” said Pete, “but here’s your money.” He put a hand into his trouser pocket. Then he stopped short and looked with dismay at Allan. The owner of the ducks waited silently. “Guess you’ll have to trust us, partner,” said Pete. “We both came away without any money.” Allan, fearing arrest would follow this announcement, held his breath. But the man only smiled courteously. “Very well,” he answered. “There is no hurry.” “Thanks!” said Pete. He looked inquiringly toward the dog. “How about my shoes and stockings? It’s a bit chilly.” “I fancy your walk back will warm you up,” said the man. Pete whistled. “Going to keep ’em for security, eh?” he asked. The other nodded gravely. “Couldn’t compromise, I suppose?” Pete insinuated. “That carbine’s worth a good bit more’n a dollar. It’s hard walking without any shoes.” “I dare say,” was the reply. “But maybe if you stub your toe a few times, it’ll remind you to find out whether a duck is domestic or wild before you shoot it.” “Look here, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is,” said Allan, explosively, “you’ll get your old dollar. We’re not thieves. But you’ve got to let him have his shoes and stockings.”