130 MELTON AND HOMESPUN 



of amber, splashed and streaked with scarlet, and this, 

 in turn, is transformed into the sable robe of night. Ever 

 and anon the report of a gun fired on the marshes lying 

 beyond the sea-wall, warns the waiting gunners that 

 the evening flight of the wild duck to their nocturnal 

 feeding-grounds inland has commenced. All anxiety 

 to score his first wild goose, Dr. Conway nervously opens 

 the breech of his 12-bore to see that the cartridges are 

 in the chambers all right. A grim smile of amusement 

 overspreads the hirsute countenance of " Gaffer " Gilson as 

 he watches this movement on the part of his companion. 

 He knows full well that the geese, unless disturbed, will 

 not commence their seaward flight just yet. 



" Swish-swish-swish ! " A team of mallard pass through 

 the uncertain light to the left of the old wreck, and well 

 out of shot of Gilson 's long gun even. 



" They mollard would heve come clean over us if yonder 

 dodderin' furriner hadn't popped out o' the marrin-grass 

 like a juggin' Jock-o'-the-box," grumbles Gilson, pointing 

 the while to the dim form of a man kneeling under the 

 sea-wall. 



By what means the old chap is able to distinguish in 

 the half-light the man as being what he is pleased to 

 call a " furriner " — in other words, a stranger — is difficult 

 to tell. He imagines, perchance, that no Oozeleigh 

 sportsman would have shown himself to fowl at such a 

 critical moment. 



Standing at intervals along the base of the high em- 

 bankment, like so many sentries, are to be seen a number 

 of men, armed with guns of sorts, and bent on shooting 

 the first goose of the season. 



" The whole township's come a-goozin', I should 



