Big Game Shooting 



started in at the duck. The whole of the porters 

 in camp volunteered to a man when I had only 

 half got through my harangue, which spoke 

 volumes, as they were all tired after the hard 

 march. Their business was to drive the shallow 

 part of the lake up to me. I may explain that 

 there was some three miles of water to drive, 

 all wadeable, with hardly any resting-place on 

 the far side and none in the middle. It was a 

 long lake about one quarter of a mile, or less, 

 wide, that was wadeable. 



The first thing that struck me was the quanti- 

 ties of snipe in the air, though as they were miles 

 high I did not shoot, but thought the more. 

 They might perhaps be got at afterwards ! 



Well, the hundred and twenty porters made 

 a solid line and waded and shouted. The duck 

 were so tame that at first they flew only a few 

 yards and pitched. I saw this wall of men ad- 

 vancing with the duck in front in the distance and 

 thought it would be a mere slaughter. To cut a 

 long story short, the duck came over me as the 

 beaters approached, and it was rather like shoot- 

 ing at clay pigeons to begin with, but the birds 

 got enlivened up a bit at the banging and came 

 better afterwards. In the middle of the proceed- 

 ings I sent off a boy, who was standing by to 

 pick up birds, with a message that half the 

 beaters were to go out of the lake, retrace their 

 footsteps, and do the whole thing over again. As 



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