Excerpt from Wildfowling Tales: From the Great Ducking Resorts of the Continent
Saturday was to be the day, but the fates were against me; for on Friday, Frat dropped off the train; the other three of our quartette who were wont to make Green head unhappy over his breakfast also came into town (oak Lake) in the old democrat, and when the four of them pulled out after the yearly reunion, it was in the direction that spelled disaster for the field - feeding mal lards. But it spelled disaster otherwise; for brotherly love is supposed to know no bounds, and now I was gun less; Frat had the custody of my game-getter - a su preme concession this, I maintain, for a shooter.
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