WILD-FOWLING AFLOAT BY NIGHT 195 



for at any moment he might have pulled the trigger, 

 and I must have been killed. On the spur of the 

 moment I shouted to him at the top of my voice, 

 which at once elicited a startled cry from his lips. 

 As he afterwards told me, he had not the remotest 

 idea of my presence, and my shriek of alarm fairly 

 took his breath away. The danger was thus fortu- 

 nately averted ; but had I hesitated for a second I 

 should probably not have related this experience. 



Night punting is obviously not a sport in which 

 novices have a right to indulge, and no one should 

 embark on expeditions of this kind who has not pre- 

 viously received full instruction in the art from some 

 capable and experienced gunner. In some places the 

 local fowlers are wont to add to the ordinary risks of 

 night punting by burying themselves and their punts 

 in the mud at low water on the chance of obtaining 

 a shot at any fowl which may drift in towards their 

 lair on the rising tide. On a rough, rainy night, 

 some five winters ago, the life of one of these hole- 

 in-the-mud men was for a few moments in con- 

 siderable peril, though no blame could have been 

 attributed to either my punter or myself had an 

 accident happened. 



We were sitting ashore, sheltering ourselves from 

 a heavy storm of wind and rain, and awaiting the turn 



o 2 



