PEEP O' DAY ON THE SALTINGS 251 



With eyes turned shorewards, the Doctor peers through 

 the still uncertain light for the approach of something 

 — he knows not of what species it may be — clothed in 

 feathers. The rhythmical " swish, swish, swish ! " of 

 many pairs of wings cleaving the air is now heard, and 

 he obtains a momentary glimpse of a number of hazy 

 forms winging seawards at a speed approaching one 

 hundred miles per hour. The double report of the 

 i2-bore awakens the slumbering echoes of the morning. 

 But there is no answering " thud " on the contiguous 

 salt-marsh — the " thud " that betokens a successful shot 

 — and the bunch of mallard continue on their flight to 

 the tide unscathed, while the disappointed sportsman 

 wonders how in the name of misfortune he managed to 

 " muff " with both barrels, and, incidental^, whether 

 " Long " Perry will chip him overmuch. 



A second bunch of mallard glide over the salt-marshes, 

 and, the old gunning-pit being immediately under the 

 line of flight and the light having greatly improved, the 

 Doctor manages to score a fat young mallard with the 

 right barrel, while a duck, hard hit, after carr3dng on a 

 short distance across the salts, drops with a sounding 

 " plonk " into a shallow swidge. The first bird is dead 

 as the proverbial mutton, but the second, although 

 very hard hit, leads the Doctor a merry dance among 

 the muddy runnels of the saltings ere he runs it to 

 earth in a bed of glasswort. From time to time the 

 report of " Long " Perry's lo-bore comes booming 

 across the salt-marshes. Nothing further worthy of 

 powder and shot ventures to pass within range of the 

 old gunning-pit, however, and the Doctor begins to 

 think that his sport for this morning is finished. 



