SOLD ! ' 207 



" Don't pull till I tell 'ee, and then take 'em as they 

 rise," came the almost inaudible and quite unnecessary 

 order from Tom. 



Hardly were the words spoken — or, rather, whispered 

 — when, to my utter surprise and unspeakable disgust, 

 a bright flash spurted out from a small muddy gully 

 which ran into the creek at a point about 150 yards above 

 us. The flash was answered by the deep report of a 

 stanchion-gun, which awakened the slumbering echoes 

 of the marshes and went booming across the vast ex- 

 panse of tide and mud and salting. With a great to-do 

 the fowl rose in a cloud and headed towards the open 

 estuary, but well out of range of our heavy gun even. A 

 march had been stolen upon us. For several moments, 

 and while the unknown gunner was busy with his 

 " cripple-stopper," Tundridge and I stared blankly and 

 sadly at each other. 



" Sold — or call me a dago ! And by a blazin' furriner, 

 too ! " ejaculated Tundridge, as he shipped the sculls 

 and then pulled slowly and silently down creek. 



