THE LAST SHOT OF THE SEASON 123 



much more importance than the phosphorescent light 

 shed by a glowworm in a hedgerow, — and the pungent 

 odour of a Trichinopli cheroot tell of the presence of a 

 second man on the jetty, — a man with a strong stomach 

 and a " thick " head, for who would venture to tackle a 

 well-seasoned "Trichy " before six o'clock in the morning, 

 unless he were endowed with both these physical ad- 

 vantages and the courage of a Spartan to boot ? 



A cheery " Good-morning, Gilson ; you're a wee bit 

 late I fancy," from the smoker elicits a somewhat gruff 

 reply of " No, I b'ain't ; yew be y'arly, and for God's 

 sake do 'ee chuck away that theer flame-fetchin', bird- 

 scarin' cigar o' yourn, Maister Dick. Never yet did I 

 meet with a big-gunner worth his grog as pulled a whiff 

 arter he'd set foot aboard his punt." Dick M — , the 

 rector's son — than whom not a keener fowler exists 

 between the Blackwater estuary and the Wash — flings 

 the offending cheroot into the tide, and lends a willing 

 and powerful hand to his humble friend and fowling 

 instructor towards rigging the antiquated Ij-in. bore 

 muzzle-loading stanchion gun, and getting the necessary 

 equipment aboard the double - handed gunning - punt. 

 The wind blows from off shore, and, as old puntsmen 

 and sail or men generally have it, is therefore a " soger's 

 breeze," to R — river, which tidal waterway, by-the-by, 

 is to form old Gilson's fowling ground this morning. A 

 broomstick of a mast carrying a handkerchief-like lugsail 

 is " stepped " and " stayed " just forward of the well- 

 coaming, and upon the punt gradually drawing away 



