through the 
deep shadows 
“Just listen at them fall!” 
said one of the men, and 
raising his gun, he sent a load 
of fine shot through the low 
trees deep into the thicket. 
Probably he killed fifty birds 
and wounded as many more 
at this single discharge. 
Before the evening was over 
they fired fully twenty times 
into the masses of roosting 
robins, whose usual instinct for 
self-preservation did not serve 
them, as few, if any, flew away 
from the swamp. 
After an hour or two the men seemed to 
erow tired of their robin hunt. They brought 
large sacks and with the aid of the torches 
began collecting their booty. Each of the eight 
men filled a sack. Why bother with more of the 
dead birds? They had all they needed. 
“My old woman can have robin pie for a 
week,” said one. 
“T don’t like them that way,” declared an- 
66 
