SEAFOWL SHOOTING SKETCHES. 47 



saw them in a bunch, we should probably have got a good shot 

 had we only approached a hundred yards lower down, the wind 

 blowing- directly from them to us. 



Judging there might be more, and the creek being difficult to 

 cross, we turned to follow it up inland. Before going very far, 

 my companion called my attention to a duck which had just risen 

 from a small tributary stream on the other side. It was a nice 

 shot, and down it came to my first barrel. The next moment up 

 went my friend's gun to his shoulder, and another duck just about 

 to rise was despatched to join its mate. This was good luck, and 

 we were duly elated. We had a long way to go round for them, 

 but got across the stream very nicely by the aid of a boat laid up 

 in the centre of it. We found our spoil to be a couple of common 

 wild ducks. 



Trudging along past some nets set for the purpose of catching 

 wild fowl, we came to a stranded boat, in the cockpit of which we 

 sheltered from the wind and indulged in a comfortable smoke. 

 Here I had a nice shot, but unaccountably missed with both 

 barrels. This concluded our sport on the shore. We were almost 

 numbed with cold, especially our hands. At the Guide's House we 

 stayed for an hour to rest and refresh. Whilst sitting here we got 

 in conversation with a couple of men employed on the dredgers, 

 both of which we had passed on the way. 



A tale told by one of the men is too good to pass unnoticed, as 

 it may serve for a warning to the honourable fraternity of shore 

 shooters, especially those from inland towns. It was substantially 

 as follows : 



Not very long ago a gentleman from Bury, who is in the habit 

 of visiting the banks of the Kibble to exercise his gun, being out 

 in a boat, the crew of which he had somewhat unwisely allowed, or 

 most probably caused, to imbibe a considerable quantity of beer, 

 directed them to anchor at a certain spot and remain there while 

 he went for a stalk ashore, his intention being, as it was rather 

 misty, to follow the mark of his own footsteps to the place on his 

 return. So far good ; but, unfortunately, the gentleman was so 

 engrossed in his sport that he forgot all about the flight of time, 

 the flight of birds being a more agreeable subject to take observa- 

 tions upon. At length his exertions appeared to be on the 

 point of receiving an adequate return. Through the mist a long 

 line of birds came flying very low and straight for him. Down 

 he sunk on one knee, and with finger on trigger anxiously awaited 

 the moment when his trusty weapon (and it was a trusty weapon, 

 too, as the sequel will show) might account for a hetacomb of 

 slain. Nearer came the line, but vague suspicions arose that 

 something was wrong, followed by the certainty when he found 

 himself in the midst of the first rush of a sixteen-foot tide ! The 



