WITH ROD AND GUN ON THE MARSHES 31 



over the top of the wall, and still keeping my head well 

 covered behind the long grass, I took aim and pulled. 

 CHck ! " Hang it — a miss-fire ! " Up went the head of a 

 fine drake, whose quick ear heard that ominous click, 

 and, uttering a warning quack to his fellows, he sprang 

 like a teal from the water — too late, however, for the 

 next moment he crumpled up hke an old glove to the 

 contents of my second barrel, and a young mallard in 

 immature plumage also dropped with a wing down to 

 the same charge. The remaining couple flew seawards 

 with a great to-do, and were soon lost to view behind the 

 headland of the island. 



Hurrying down to the pond, I found the old drake 

 lying paddles upward where he had dropped, but not a 

 sign could I see of the winged bird. Suddenly, however, 

 my attention was attracted by a circle of air -bubbles 

 rising amongst a growth of water-plants within a few 

 yards of where I was standing, and upon closer examina- 

 tion I discovered a small object, which I at once recog- 

 nised as being the bill of a duck, poking up amongst the 

 weeds. Putting a cartridge in my gun, I walked a little 

 way back from the bank of the pond, and aiming a little 

 below the object, I fired, and up bobbed the mallard, 

 stone dead. 



Still, the duck had to be gathered, and after hunting 

 round for a few minutes, I came across a broken sheep- 

 hurdle, and wrenching away the top bar, fastened the 

 end of a piece of string (moral, never be without a bit 

 of string, etc.) to the middle of the bar, threw the 



