ON MARSH AND DYKE 309 



5's and 8's in our pockets, and started to work through a 

 patch of high rank grass, growing near the headland, 

 which looked likely partridge cover. 



Our departure from town was so sudden that I had no 

 time to send for the old retriever that usually accompanied 

 me when shooting on the marshes. A well-broken re- 

 triever or spaniel is quite an essential to the marsh 

 shooter. 



Scarcely had we entered the grass, which grew well 

 above our knees, when a covey of nine partridges rose right 

 ahead and within easy shot. 



B scored with a right and left, while I " muffed " 



with my first barrel, but managed to stop the last 

 bird as he was skimming over the sea-wall, and he fell 

 with a resounding splash into the creek, which, during 



flood-tide, flowed round three sides of the island. B , 



who happened to be walking close to the sea-wall, volun- 

 teered to go and gather my bird. 



Now B , who is somewhat short and rotund of 



stature, and more given to enjoying the good things of this 

 world than of indulging in violent exercise, went at the 

 wide boundary dyke like a good 'un, and had he not 

 caught his foot in a clump of rank, matted sword-grass, 

 just as he was " taking off," he would doubtless have 

 cleared the dyke in grand style. But, thanks to the grass- 

 trap, he took a header into shoulder-deep, filthy slime 

 and water instead, gun, cartridge-bag and all, and rose 

 to the surface a few moments later in a far filthier 

 condition than any London sewer-man, gasping and 



