312 Recreations of a Sportsman 



stopped, and Pinchot stood in the stern ready 

 to fire when they came up, while I was ready 

 to attack them with the camera, standing for 

 the purpose in the bow. 



The water was perfectly smooth, reaching away, 

 a disk of steel. It was one of the hottest days 

 of the season, and every move on the water could 

 be seen. Looking down into it the sun seemed 

 to irradiate and fill it with marvellous lights in 

 which poised countless beautiful jelly-like forms 

 seemingly a part of some resplendent decora- 

 tion of the deep sea. 



While watching this the three killers suddenly 

 came up not thirty feet distant, showing the 

 upper portion of their bodies which glistened 

 like black ivory in the sun. I think Pinchot 

 fired at the largest. The animal rose high 

 enough to show its eye, and I thought the bullet 

 struck the water just at the base of the big five- 

 or six-foot fin. Possibly the Chief Forester was 

 not trying to hit the game, as at that distance 

 he was a dead shot an extraordinary shot at 

 any distance, to my mind, doing if he desired all 

 his big game shooting with a revolver when most 

 men would want a close-sighted rifle. 



The killers apparently made no demonstration. 

 They came up to blow, W 7 hale-like, and rolled 

 down again with dignity. As my camera clicked, 

 as I thought, on the entire three (though it 

 must be confessed I was excited at the display 



