A Night of Wild Fowling 49 



" Well, yes ; something in that way." 



" Ah, I fancied you was by your shootin'. You let 

 some fowl go by that I should have pulled at. You don't 

 shoot for a livin' ? " 



" No, I do not." 



" Shall you be down this part any more, think you ? " 



" Yes, I may, for anything I know." 



" Well, there's some of your sort of birds about here, 

 what you're after, and I could knock a few over for you. 

 Would this one be any good to you ? If it is, take it." 



I was glad to have it, for it was a fine specimen of the 

 Kentish Plover, or Dotterel (Charadnus cantianus) — a rare 

 bird even here. 



" Can you live by your gun ? " I asked. 



' ' Sometimes ; last winter I did well, though it was by 

 chance like ! It come about this way. I had to go to 

 the marshes at the back of the island — Sheerness. You 

 don't know it, do you ? " 



' ' I know it well, a shallow part especially, covered over 

 with sea grass and weed, and a good nine miles from 

 here." 



' ' Ah, that's it ! The geese are well sheltered there, 

 with plenty of food, and they'd gathered from all parts. I 

 brought home three couple on my first night, and sold 

 'em. Then I bought myself powder and shot, and a few 

 other things, and went to work. Well, all through that 

 winter I managed to live ; rough work at times, mind you, 

 but I lived, and that's somethin'. I allays keeps me own 

 secrets. My line of work is shootin' fowl, an' I don't want 

 anybody to help me ! " 



I gathered afterwards on the trudge home that my 

 companion made a very good living indeed, though he 

 made little noise and much less boast. 



