ON FOWLERS AND WILD-FOWLING. 163 



is always alone. Pairs do not shoot together. 

 There would be endless squabbles if they did. If 

 he is on the slub flats, and the sea -fog comes 

 down on him, even if the shore-shooter is only a 

 quarter of a mile out and he has his dog with him, 

 his situation is not to be envied. He may come out 

 of it all right, and he may not. It is impossible to 

 tell at such times which is water and which slub. 

 More than one fowler has driven the barrel of his 

 long duck-gun into the ooze, and grasped the stock, 

 when he has found the water rippling over his boots 

 and the tide coming in, not going out. And he has 

 all but funked over the matter, when the fog has 

 been lifted as quickly as it fell. He has just been 

 able to reach shore after wading in water waist-high. 

 Others have thrown down their bunch of fowl and 

 rushed for their lives. I have been in this fix 

 myself, and know what it is like. To see the tide 

 rush round you, filling up hollows to the size of a 

 moderate mill-pond, in about five minutes, will make 

 you look alive. For it is a well-known fact that any 

 fowler caught on the flats by the tide, if he has 

 fishing-boots on, and he is not able to get them off 

 in time, goes down. 



