"This ain't no country to hunt in," said he. "Did either of you fellows ever have any real duck-shooting?"
"The mountings," said Raymond, "air poor places for ducks."
"Not big enough water," suggested Pete. "Some wood-ducks, I suppose?"
"Along the creeks and rivers, yes seh," said Raymond, "and sometimes a flock of wild geese would get lost, and some bewildered, and a man would shoot one or two--from the tops of the ridges--but nothing to depend on."
"I've never been nowhere," said Newton, "except once to Minnesota--and--and that wasn't in the shooting season."
A year ago Newton would have boasted of having "bummed" his way to Faribault. His hesitant speech was a proof of the embarrassment his new respectability sometimes inflicted upon him.
"I used to shoot ducks for the market at Spirit Lake," said Pete. "I know Fred Gilbert just as well as I know you. If I'd 'a' kep' on shooting I could have made my millions as champion wing shot as easy as he has. He didn't have nothing on me when we was both shooting for a livin'. But that's all over, now. You've got to go so fur now to get decent shooting where the farmers won't drive you off, that it costs nine dollars to send a postcard home."
"I think we'll have fine shooting on the slew in a few days," said Newton.
"Humph!" scoffed Pete. "I give you my word, if I hadn't promised the colonel I'd stay with him another year, I'd take a side-door Pullman for the Sand Hills of Nebraska or the Devil's Lake country to-morrow--if I had a gun."
"If it wasn't for a passel of things that keep me hyeh," said Raymond, "I'd like to go too."
"The colonel," said Pete, "needs me. He needs me in the election to-morrow. What's the matter of your ol' man, Newt? What for does he vote for that Bonner, and throw down an old neighbor?"
"I can't do anything with him!" exclaimed Newton irritably. "He's all tangled up with Peterson and Bonner."
"Well," said Pete, "if he'd just stay at home, it would help some. If he votes for Bonner, it'll be just about a stand-off."
"He never misses a vote!" said Newton despairingly.
"Can't you cripple him someway?" asked Pete jocularly. "Darned funny when a boy o' your age can't control his father's vote! So long!"
"I wish I _could_ vote!" grumbled Newton. "I wish I _could_! We know a lot more about the school, and Jim Irwin bein' a good teacher than dad does--and we can't vote. Why can't folks vote when they are interested in an election, and know about the issues. It's tyranny that you and I can't vote."