Suddenly Jarro caught sight of some young ducks and drakes, in whose company he had formerly raced backward and forward over the lake.  They were a long way off, but Jarro called them to him with a couple of loud shouts.  They responded, and a large and beautiful flock approached.  Before they got there, Jarro began to tell them about his marvellous rescue, and of the kindness of human beings.  Just then, two shots sounded behind him.  Three ducks sank down in the reeds—­lifeless—­and Caesar bounced out and captured them.

Then Jarro understood.  The human beings had only saved him that they might use him as a decoy-duck.  And they had also succeeded.  Three ducks had died on his account.  He thought he should die of shame.  He thought that even his friend Caesar looked contemptuously at him; and when they came home to the cottage, he didn’t dare lie down and sleep beside the dog.

The next morning Jarro was again taken out on the shallows.  This time, too, he saw some ducks.  But when he observed that they flew toward him, he called to them:  “Away!  Away!  Be careful!  Fly in another direction!  There’s a hunter hidden behind the reed-pile.  I’m only a decoy-bird!” And he actually succeeded in preventing them from coming within shooting distance.

Jarro had scarcely had time to taste of a grass-blade, so busy was he in keeping watch.  He called out his warning as soon as a bird drew nigh.  He even warned the grebes, although he detested them because they crowded the ducks out of their best hiding-places.  But he did not wish that any bird should meet with misfortune on his account.  And, thanks to Jarro’s vigilance, the farm-hand had to go home without firing off a single shot.

Despite this fact, Caesar looked less displeased than on the previous day; and when evening came he took Jarro in his mouth, carried him over to the fireplace, and let him sleep between his forepaws.

Nevertheless Jarro was no longer contented in the cottage, but was grievously unhappy.  His heart suffered at the thought that humans never had loved him.  When the mistress, or the little boy, came forward to caress him, he stuck his bill under his wing and pretended that he slept.

For several days Jarro continued his distressful watch-service; and already he was known all over Takern.  Then it happened one morning, while he called as usual:  “Have a care, birds!  Don’t come near me!  I’m only a decoy-duck,” that a grebe-nest came floating toward the shallows where he was tied.  This was nothing especially remarkable.  It was a nest from the year before; and since grebe-nests are built in such a way that they can move on water like boats, it often happens that they drift out toward the lake.  Still Jarro stood there and stared at the nest, because it came so straight toward the islet that it looked as though someone had steered its course over the water.

As the nest came nearer, Jarro saw that a little human being—­the tiniest he had ever seen—­sat in the nest and rowed it forward with a pair of sticks.  And this little human called to him:  “Go as near the water as you can, Jarro, and be ready to fly.  You shall soon be freed.”