Quack, the tears once more
filling her eyes. "We had reached the Big River over there, just
six of us out of the big flock that had started from the sunny
Southland. How we got as far as that I don't know. But we did, and
neither Mr. Quack nor I had lost a feather from those terrible guns
that had banged at us all the way up and that had killed so many
of our friends.
"We were flying up the Big River, and everything seemed perfectly
safe. We were in a hurry, and when we came to a bend in the Big
River, we flew quite close to shore, so as not to have to go way
out and around. That was where Mr. Quack made a mistake. Even the
smartest people will make mistakes sometimes, you know."
Peter Rabbit nodded, "I know," said he. "I've made them myself."
And then he wondered why Jerry Muskrat laughed right out.
"Yes," continued Mrs. Quack, "that is where Mr. Quack made a mistake,
a great mistake. I suppose that because not a single gun had been
fired at us that morning he thought perhaps there were no hunters
on the Big River. So to save time he led us close to shore. And
then it happened. There was a bang, bang of a terrible gun, and
down fell Mr. Quack just as we had seen so many fall before. It was
awful. There was Mr. Quack flying in front of me on swift, strong
wings, and there never was a swifter, stronger flier or a handsomer
Duck than Mr. Quack, and then all in the wink of an eye he was
tumbling helplessly down, down to the water below, and I was flying
on alone, for the other Ducks turned off, and I don't know what
became of them.
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