Beach Combers 65 



tacked from left to right, but grew plainer every 

 instant. 



" Here they come right for us flatten out and 

 wait!" 



Nearer and nearer they sped until we could 

 catch the faint music of five hundred whistling 

 throats. Louder and louder grew the clamor till 

 the air seemed to quiver with a storm of " Whew- 

 ew-whew-whew-ew." When the long, droning, 

 quavering, blended cries struck like a cascade of 

 noise as though the fowl were tonguing in our very 

 ears, we leaped up. Almost over us was a cloud of 

 screaming birds, brown of bodies and as large as 

 pigeons. We gathered in nine shapely prizes with 

 stilted legs and long-curved bills like sickles. 



Straightway we hunted for slim, stiff weed-stalks 

 to hold the birds' necks in lifelike position, and soon 

 half-a-dozen decoys were in proper array. For two 

 hours longer we waited, and then a pair stooped to 

 the decoys and were promptly attended to. Half 

 an hour later another great flock clamored in, to 

 pay tribute to four barrels. Then again we lay and 

 watched till the sun told us it was late afternoon. 

 In the dim distance other flocks followed the hosts 

 that had passed, but no more came our way, and 

 Larry finally arose and in a loud voice informed all 

 fowl within earshot that he was hollow all the way 

 through, and would eat or know why. 



We tramped the long way back to our trap and 

 got out the lunch and fed, feeling at peace with all 

 the world. Then we had a comfortable smoke, and 

 after that smoothed our birds, stowed guns in cases, 

 and placed all in the trap. Larry led the nag down 



