94 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



when his finger touched the trigger he only winged 

 the coveted prize. Down went his gun, round the 

 pond he rushed, and, not knowing the nature or 

 tactics of the bird, he knelt down to pick him up. 

 At the same moment the heron made one of its 

 lightning-like strokes at one of his eyes. Luckily for 

 him the bird's neck came in contact with his arm, 

 spoiling the aim. As it was, the bill cut a shallow 

 furrow on the cheek-bone under the eye aimed at. 

 Undaunted, he made a loop with one end of his hand- 

 kerchief and placed it round the neck just below the 

 head. The other end he tied round the heron's legs. 

 In fact, he haltered him. Then he tucked him under 

 his arm like a goose, and picking up his gun, marched 

 home, a proud and happy man, arriving just as the 

 village folks were going into breakfast. Seeing a 

 friend coming down the street he exclaimed, ' I've 

 got him ! ' 'I see you have ; but what is that cut on 

 your cheek ? ' replied the friend, adding, when he had 

 been told how it occurred, ' Why, man alive ! never 

 do such a thing again ; why, if that bird had made 

 his stroke good, you would certainly have lost your 

 eye, if not your life. You have had a very narrow 

 escape.' 



' Eh ! what ! bless me ! you don't say so ? Really 

 now, dear me, dear me, eh ! ' Then, in a tone of voice 



