TOM draw's visit TO PINK BROOK. 211 



Off we set without further parley; within five minutes I 

 had bagged Tom's first, a rare green-headed Drake, and 

 joined Van Dyne, who, with the head and neck of his 

 first bird hanging out of his breeches pocket, where, in 

 default of game-bag, he had stowed it, was just in the act 

 of pouring a double handful of BB into his Queen's Ann's 

 musket. Before he had loaded, we heard a shot across the 

 road, and saw the fifth bird fall to Harry at long distance, 

 while Shot was gently mouthing Draw's second duck, to 

 his unutterable contentment. We had some trouble in 

 gathering the other, for it was merely body-shot, and that 

 not mortally, so that it dived like a fish, bothering poor 

 Chase beyond expression. This done, we re-united our 

 forces, and instantly proceeded to the big meadow, which 

 we found, as Harry had anticipated, in the most perfect 

 possible condition — the grass was short, and of a delicate 

 and tender green, not above ankle deep, with a rich close 

 black mould, moist and soft enough for boring every 

 where, under foot — with, at rare intervals, a slank, as it 

 is termed in Jersey, or hollow winding course, in which 

 the waters have lain longer than elsewhere, covered with a 

 deep, rust-colored scum, floating upon the stagnant pools. 

 We had not walked ten yards before a bird jumped up 

 to my left hand, which I cut down — and while I was in 

 the act of loading, another and another arose, but scarcely 

 cleared the grass ere the unerring shot of my two stanch 

 companions had stopped their flight forever. Some ten 

 yards from the spot on which my bird had fallen, lay one 

 of these wet slanks which I have mentioned — Chase drew 

 on the dead bird and pointed — another fluttered up under 

 his very nose, dodged three or four yards to and fro, and 

 before I could draw my trigger, greatly to my surprise, 

 spread out his wings and settled. Harry and Tom had 

 seen the move, and walked up to join me; just as they 

 came Chase retrieved the snipe I had shot, and when 1 

 had entombed it in my pocket, we moved on all abreast. 

 Skeap! skeap! skeap! Up they jumped, not six yards 

 from our feet, positively in a flock, their bright white 

 bellies glancing in the sun, twenty at least in number. 

 Six barrels were discharged, and six birds fell; we loaded 

 and moved on the dogs drawing at every step, backing 

 and pointing, so foiled was the ground with the close 



