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“Mr. Brigham crowded Lester upon Bert and me in about the same way,” said Don.

“Was that Lester Brigham?” exclaimed Curtis—“the boy who burned your old shooting-box and kicked up that rumpus while we were at Rochdale? We often heard you speak of him, but you know we never saw him.”

“He’s the very one,” replied Don.

“Then he will make a good mate for Enoch Williams,” said Egan. “Why, Don, this fellow has been caught in the act of looting ducks on the bay.”

Egan’s tone and manner seemed to indicate that he looked upon this as one of the worst offenses that could be committed, and both he and Hopkins were surprised because Don did not grow angry over it.

“What’s looting ducks?” asked the latter.

“It is a system of hunting pursued by the pot-hunters of Chesapeake bay, who shoot for the market and not for sport. A huge blunderbuss, which will hold a handful of powder and a pound or more of shot, and which is kept concealed during the day-time, is put into the bow of a skiff at night, and carried into the very midst of a flock of sleeping ducks; and sometimes the men who manage it, secure as many as sixty or seventy birds at one discharge. The law expressly prohibits it, and denounces penalties against those who are caught at it.”