MY FIRST "TWELFTH." 117 



by the way, was interrupted by a diverting incident. 

 The ladies had joined us, and we were all seated on 

 the banks of a little mountain loch, on which numbers 

 of small water-birds (dabchicks, I believe) were float- 

 ing. Emboldened by our remaining quiet some of 

 them approached quite near to us, when Jack whispered 

 to me he'd have a rise out of the parson. 



" It's wonderful," he began, u how deceptive the 

 distances are on these lochs. How far, now, would 

 you think that bird is off ? " 



" About thirty-five, say forty yards," said the 

 parson, scanning the object carefully. 



" More like three times that," said Jack quietly. 



" Nonsense, I can see its eye, quite plainly." 



So could I. 



" Well, you say it's within gun-shot, don't you ? " 

 queried the tormentor. " You try, and you'll find it 

 isn't." 



Now I began to see the drift of his remarks. It 

 is almost impossible to shoot these little birds, as they 

 dive at the flash of the gun. 



" I'm sure it is." 



"Try, then; if you weren't a parson, I'd bet you 

 wouldn't hit it." 



At last the parson jumped up, and seizing his gun, 

 went to the shore of the loch. 



Bang ! The aim was true enough, and the shot 

 struck all round the spot where the bird had been. 



" You see," said the Devonian. 



" It isn't hit," said Jack quietly. " You frightened 

 it, I admit, and it dived. It'll be up directly." 



