4 A MEDLEY OF SPORT 



eastern skyline, although the lantern of the lightship 

 isolated beyond the serrated edge of the treacherous 

 sandbar shines almost as brightly as it did at midnight, 

 and the lights of the fishing fleet trawling out upon the 

 main dance and flicker like so many will-o'-the-wisps. 



But the swivel gun is already charged, and the sailing 

 gear neatly stowed under the fore deck, for the sail must 

 give place to either setting-stick or paddle now that the 

 more serious work of the morning is to commence. 

 Keeping well under the left-hand shore of the little tidal 

 river, which is fringed on either side by glass-wort 

 covered saltings and treeless, wall-enclosed marshes, the 

 old punt-gunner strains both ears and eyes for a sound 

 or sight of fowl, and silently steers the tide-borne punt 

 clear of every spit of saltings and tongue of slob. 



" Hearken to they whaup, maister ! " suddenly 

 whispers Gilson to his companion as the shrill and un- 

 mistakable whe-oh of a widgeon breaks the dead silence 

 of early morning. 



" They be on the mullet shoal, I dare say ; but don't 

 'ee pull the trigger-string till I do give the word," adds 

 the old fowler, who once more gets to work with the 

 setting-stick, while the younger man lies prone on the 

 floor of the punt, with his eyes peering ov^ the fore- 

 coaming, and his right hand grasping the trigger-line, 

 for at any moment the widgeon may spring from the tide 

 or ooze. 



By this time the light is sufficiently good to enable the 

 fowlers to discern a small herd of curlew quartering a 



