Every few minutes Ned caressingly fingered the warm, soft ball hanging against his left hip. He hoped that it would make a bloody spot on the canvas of the pocket. Although he had done his best, the coat was still altogether too fresh.
No more game fell to his gun that day; but neither he nor Tom cared. They were not to go home empty-handed.
All the way through the streets Ned wondered if people suspected what he was carrying concealed in that pocket; and he bore, without caring, the gibes of sundry hateful urchins:
"Aw, didn't get nothin'! Didn't get nothin'! Ain't he a big hunter, though!"
Tom stayed and helped him clean the teal. They sat in the barn door, and scattered the feathers into the alley, while Bob sniffed and sniffed at their operations. The smell of the duck seemed to revive in his blood old instincts, inherited from his parents, and he was unhappy and puzzled.
"You didn't kill that all at once, did you?" laughed a man, driving past.
Well, it had not been very big, with the feathers on, and it was very much smaller, with the feathers off. But it was a duck!
The boys counted the shot-holes, and traced where each pellet had gone in and come out. They agreed that Ned's aim had been exactly right and that the gun was a wonder.
Into the midst of their pleasure crept an undercurrent of pity which stopped just short of regret.
"Seems kind of too bad, to kill it, doesn't it," commented Tom, weighing the wee, cold, bare morsel in his palm.
"Y-y-yes," admitted Ned. "But I guess he never knew what struck him."
The wings, with their band of shiny emerald, had been put aside, to keep.
"Here," said Ned, holding them out to Tom, as that stanch follower was on the point of going home. "Take 'em."
"Give 'em to Zu-zu, then," blushed Ned, as if that was a second thought. "She can wear 'em in a hat."
Ned was duly congratulated on his success by the family. The duck went to the ice-box, and was roasted and served to him for dinner the next day.
"Oh, Neddie!" exclaimed his mother, as the teal, now, after cooking, was smaller than ever. "Do you mean to say that it took two boys and a gun and nearly a whole day to kill a poor little bird like that?"
"It's good, anyway," excused Ned, his mouth full.