My venerable friend Mr. C,” a veritable Nimrod from the city of _____ in N.H., who has been sojourning among us since last fall – good-natured, kind and persevering, has but one fault, to wit: he believes and maintains that he is the fortunate possessor of the best breech-loading shotgun that was ever made. It is a Claybrough Bros. No. 10, and if it wasn’t a “leetle” too heavy for him, he wouldn’t part with it this side of the happy hunting grounds.

With regard to the wild goose chase I am to speak of, we – my friend of the “Claybrough,” myself and son – started at 3 a.m. by the watch, and very soon were safely aboard of our trim little boat on the bosom of the gentle Minnesota.

It was an April morning. Although early in the season for this northern country, the weather was delightful, with a starlit sky overhead and a bracing morning air all around us. We soon passed the ferry, the Indian camps, snugly situated on both sides of the river (these Indians are old residenters among us and have never taken up arms against their pale-faced brethren.), and rounded the big bend near Major Murphy’s going at the rate of eight or ten knots an hour, with a strong current and the aid of a good pair of oars, old Mr. C. occupying the stern.

In due time we safely moored our craft on the left bank of the stream, and cautiously crept up the bank and began to reconnoiter in the gray light of the early morn.

Mr. C., who was the generalissimo of this campaign, had the plan all laid out, where each of us were to be posted along the banks of a long lake, the nightly resort of the Anser canadenis – our game. He knew from previous experience where the geese were sure to fly out a little before sunrise – they always flew out this way – and in whispering accents we two received our general instructions, and silently proceeded to take up the positions assigned us, well covered with reeds and bushes. Success was sure, as, unlike C.C.’s bear story in your paper, the geese were there, and we couldn’t have missed them.

Occasionally a flock of mallards or wood ducks would come skimming in from the uplands, offering very good shots, but we were after geese, and did not want to speak to them just now.

Presently the geese on the lake began to get up a lively discussion as the first red streak was tingeing the eastern horizon, heralding the coming of “old Sol” in all his majesty and pomp; and hark! Up they go about 50 of them!

Closely we hugged the ground, but to our great surprise they must have been mistaken in their bearings, or else a sly old gander that we had heard discoursing out on the lake had received a friendly warning from some of the ducks flying into the lake close over us.

Ducks, like women, can’t keep a secret anyhow. The gees hugged the lake close, and finally crossed over to their feeding grounds, where they were well out of our reach. Not a word was said, not a whisper was heard; there were more geese in the lake talking rapidly and loud, some of them surely must come our way; they always flew that way.

Hark! Up goes another flock, quite as large as the first, and they are nearing, but – well, I didn’t swear – I never swear – but confound that tell-tale drake that betrayed us; they flew in the same track that the first flock did. That decided me. A heavy fog had risen, and under its cover I hastened to the place where I had seen the two first flocks across the river. Come o, now, I’ve got ye at last. Pst! Up goes a tremendous big flock, seeming the remainder of the army. Having sent their skirmishers ahead they will surely follow in the same track, for as yet not a gun had been discharged.

With bated breath, I waited I watched them rise over the low fog bank; higher and higher they rose in their spiral flight, and when they were about as high as the surrounding hills, they sped up the lake and crossed over at the Murphy place a full mile above where we were sure they always flew!

Well, when the geese were gone we three met. Says our commander, “Never mind we’ll get those geese yet when they come in again at about 8:30 a.m.! They always come in on the same track that they fly out.”

That was cheering news; so we made a fire, warmed our coffee and partook of breakfast. After breakfast we lighted our pipe and contentedly listened to the “bulldoo-oo” of the innumerable prairie roosters and hens, and the drumming of the pheasants close by.

One of the latter in particular seemed to be very close to us, and we could almost feel distinctly every rap he gave that old log with his outstretched wings.

Poor fellow, it proved to be his last enjoyment.

After an hour or so, Mr. “C.” remarked that we had better take up our position , as the geese would soon come in again. The early morning train came thundering up the valley within a quarter of a mile of us, and for the time being all creation seemed hushed in silence witnessing with awe the performance of that monster of human ingenuity – the iron horse!

Leisurely we proceeded to the places assigned us by our commander-in-chief, in the full consciousness that now we had them.

Having waited probably 30 minutes, our expectant ears were greeted with that familiar sound proceeding from the game we were then lying in wait for.

Nearer and nearer came that sound. Keep well covered. But lo! What’s the use to describe our feelings when we looked from behind our blinds. The geese were already over the lake, spreading their wings preparatory for a downward flight. “They did come in by the same road they flew out,” but not exactly where we knew they always would come in!

Well, we didn’t want any geese very badly anyhow – it was Friday too – and so we gave it up. After a while my son began to strike out for himself in the hope of talking a word or two with some ducks.

Accidentally passing by the log where our pheasant had been drumming lustily only an hour ago, when up springs a large hawk, holding securely in his talons the ill-fated pheasant.

The boy wasn’t slow in raising his old No. 10 and in an instant down came hawk and pheasant. On an examination, however, he found that the robber had already killed his quarry and had been tearing into the plump breast of our little friend. The poacher, for such he was according to the laws of our State which forbids the taking, etc. of any quail, pheasant, etc., in this and some other months, was not much hurt, so we secured him in spite of his very loud protestations, and tied him to a sapling till our return home, in order to deliver him up to the proper authorities. After a while, we tried to get at the geese by strategy, but they seemed to see through all our maneuvers and finally we resolved that we should not be bothered with them any more.

But hark! What makes that fearful sound in the distance like an approaching thunderstorm! It must be the express train due in Shakopee at 9:30. No that had passed! See the fearful clouds of smoke rising up before us with a dreadful crackling noise. It is a fire in the big rushes on the low prairie extending on both banks of the river and the adjacent lakes

“Are we in danger?” asked Mr. “C.” “Guess not; it seems to be across the river.”

Louder and nearer comes the sound; blacker and blacker rolls the smoke; the wind to increases, large cinders are falling thick around us. “Why, look! It is on this side of the river already?” exclaimed Mr. “C.,” and off he puts for the boat.

“Where is my boy, he has the key to the boat in his pocket?” Why not set fire to the rank grass and weeds where we are? We dare not, for it would be between us and the boy!

Call him in! We shouted and whistled. No answer. Again, we uttered a prolonged whistle. At last we see him coming toward us. No time to lose, the smoke becomes stifling. Away we hastened to the boat in the nick of time, and by strong rowing against the heavy current we succeeded in escaping and landed at a safe distance, where we rested for a good long while, and finally put out for home, tired, hungry and disgusted at the idea that any one person could tell with any degree of certainty any thing about the flight of those geese!

Mr. “C.C.,” of Rock Camp fame, had at least a deer or two to console him, but we didn’t’ get a feather. In my next, I will give you description of our famous duck passes. Ducks are here in great numbers.