94 HAPPY HUNTING-GROUNDS 



diving and gambolling in water so clear that we can 

 see every movement of the long shadowy forms gliding 

 below the surface, and so close that we can count the 

 teeth of one great grey fellow who maintains an al- 

 most upright position with his head and shoulders 

 thrown back and his jaws extended in a portentous 

 yawn. A little to the left three choughs are hopping 

 about on the short grass just by the sixteenth green, 

 and on the sand, about fifty yards below the spring, a 

 pair of sheldrakes are feeding among some long green 

 weed in all the glory of their beautiful plumage of 

 white, black, and orange. 



There is an interlude before we play our second 

 round. We take our guns, and make off in the direc- 

 tion of Port Lotha, in the hope of getting a shot at the 

 flock of wild duck we noticed from the ninth tee. 

 Keeping about fifty yards apart, we advance cautiously 

 under the shelter of the rock, and, as our heads peer 

 over, the birds rise with loud quacks of alarm, near 

 enough to leave three of their number behind them. 

 At the sound of our shots other flocks of duck and 

 teal rise from various inlets of the bay, and we crouch, 

 in the vain hope that some teal may circle round 

 within shot, as they seldom take a very long flight. 

 We watch them till they settle near the opposite side 

 of the bay, but as they take up too open a position 

 for a stalk we turn back, making a line on our return, 

 through the stretch of rushy marsh we passed on our 

 left during the game. This is always a sure find for 

 a few snipe, and we manage to secure two couple and 

 a half, and a young blackcock, before we return to 

 play a second round. 



It is nearly five o'clock when we finish, but the 



