"I 'm afraid I can't hit it from here," he thought, "so I 'll just
step upon that big stone in the brook, and shoot from there."
So he stepped out upon the stone, and took aim at the duck again, and
fired the gun.
The next minute the little man had tumbled head over heels into the
water, and he nearly drowned before he could scramble out again; for,
not being used to shooting, the gun had kicked, or recoiled, and had
knocked him off the round stone where he had been standing.
When he had succeeded in reaching the bank he was overjoyed to see
that he had shot the duck, which lay dead upon the water a short
distance away. The little man got a long stick, and, reaching it out,
drew the dead duck to the bank. Then he started joyfully homeward to
show the prize to his wife.
"There, Joan," he said, as he entered the house, "is a nice little
duck for our dinner. Do you now think your husband cannot shoot?"
"But there 's only one duck," remarked his wife, "and it 's very
small. Can't you go and shoot another? Then we shall have enough for
dinner."
"Yes, of course I can shoot another," said the little man, proudly;
"you make a fire and get the pot boiling, and I 'll go for another
duck."
"You 'd better shoot a drake this time," said Joan, "for drakes are
bigger."
She started to make the fire, and the little man took his gun and went
to the brook; but not a duck did he see, nor drake neither, and so he
was forced to come home without any game.
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