THE BROADS. 37 



R. B. stood handy with a walking-stick gun prepared to wipe the eye of either 

 or both. He never got the chance, for she fell to an easy shot before she 

 reached him. We now adjourned to lunch, at which my strange costume, the 

 most prominent feature of which was a pair of pants soaked brown to the 

 middle of the calves, provoked much merriment, until someone discovered that, 

 owing to a servant's error, soap and water was the only beverage contained in 

 our flasks. 



Thus refreshed, and with our interest stimulated anew by Z 's 



statement that there was a small Warbler somewhere on the marsh different 

 to any he had ever seen before, we determined to enter a part where the 

 vegetation was thicker still. I stuck to my costume as being incapable of 



further depreciation, but S thought to improve upon it by entering in 



boots, but with bare legs ; it may be said at once that this was a failure. Cut 

 by the sedge, and stung by various insects, his calves next day presented the 

 appearance of balloons, and, while we were shooting, he was lying on the sofa 

 wrestling with an incipient attack of blood poisoning, which he only just 

 succeeded in warding off. 



But to return to the Broads. I had hopes from Z 's description that 



the Warbler mentioned might turn out an Aquatic, and I knocked over two 

 suspicious creatures that we put out. These birds, though they proved only 

 to be Sedge Warblers, gave us an opportunity of admiring Z 's extra- 

 ordinary powers as a retriever. When the first bird fell in what appeared a 

 hopeless jungle, he never despaired for a moment, but quickly set to work to 

 trace the passage of the shot. This he did by looking for shot holes and tears 

 in the reeds ; later on he found a feather, then a fleck of blood, and finally the 

 bird itself was brought to light. His tracking powers were worthy of a Red 

 Indian, and when the second bird fell in a place little less difficult we were all 

 quite prepared to see it found. While resting from our exertions for a few 



moments, we got a distant view of what Z called a "Game-Hawk." I 



could not identify it myself at the distance, but I gathered from his description 

 that it was a Peregrine. As time went on, the prospect of an hour's railway 



journey in soaked boots grew less and less enticing, and when Z suggested 



that we should go to his home, get tea, and endeavour to dry ourselves, 

 everyone jumped at the proposal. The visit was a great success, and I 

 have seldom enjoyed a tea more than the one set before us in this snug little 

 cottage. We sat with our feet in blankets while our boots and socks were 

 being baked in the kitchen oven, the end of it being that we returned dry- 

 shod in the evening, possessed at last of some Bearded Tits, and having spent 

 a thoroughly delightful day. 



