24 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



way lower down to the tide, where, crouching under 

 the remains of a stack of reeds, I found a ' shore- 

 shooter ' one who makes his living by means of his 

 gun. By some unlucky chance he had forgotten to 

 fill his powder-flask. The birds are well up on the 

 Saltings, and he has only enough for another charge 

 for his duck-gun. Could I oblige him with a charge ? 

 he asked. 



' Certainly ; with half a dozen, if you like,' was 

 my reply. 



' I can't afford to shoot them little hen-footed 

 things, he remarked ; ' powder and shot cost money. 

 Are you after something to stuff? You seems to 

 have some little things done up careful like.' 



' 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.' 



