eyes. Then the crashing roar of the shotgun shattered the silence.
Chad walked forward briskly, breeching the gun and slipping in another cartridge. His tanned face wore a broad grin. He would never forget the expression on Ringtail's countenance the moment before he had pulled trigger, and he wondered gleefully what the old fox was thinking now. One thing he was sure of: Ringtail was still running and he would continue running for quite a while.
Chad stooped and examined the two wood ducks lying on the ground where Ringtail had placed them. They were in perfect condition, unbruised and showing only a few traces of blood. Then he glanced at the cattails beyond the bank, riddled and torn by the charge of turkey shot which he had fired five feet over the fox's head. Finally, grinning more broadly than ever, he picked up the ducks and started homeward.
Presently he laughed aloud.
"So," he chuckled, "the Judge is counting on summer ducks for dinner to-morrow, is he? Well, he'll have them, and without breaking any law either. But he ought to propose a rising vote of thanks to a certain old friend of mine who goes by the name of Ringtail in these parts."
