256 MELTON AND HOMESPUN 



Joe takes his companion to an old gunning-pit — which, 

 by the way, the recent spring tides have left in a de- 

 cidedly moist and muddy condition — and bidding him 

 keep low and hold straight, he moves off to another duck- 

 hole lying at no great distance away. 



Brighter and brighter grows the greyness in the eastern 

 heavens, the stars begin to pale and fade, the lights of the 

 shipping in the Roads wane dim and yellow at the coming 

 of da\Mi, and surrounding objects take more definite 

 form as the light improves. 



Very soon the gladsome sound of pinions rapidly 

 beating through the brine-charged air greets the ears 

 of the amateur, who, very patiently, sits in the wet 

 and muddy duck-hole, waiting for something to turn 

 up. 



" Swish-swish ! — swish-swish ! " here comes the first 

 bunch of mallard. They fly wide of the gunning-pit, 

 however ; affording the amateur not so much as a fleeting 

 glimpse as they wing their way seawards through the still 

 dim and uncertain light. 



A tongue of flame suddenly spurts up from the surface 

 of the salting, and the boom of a heavy shoulder-gun 

 awakens the slumbering echoes of marshland, creek and 

 ooze-fiat. " Widgeon " Joe's ancient weapon has spoken, 

 and to some effect, no doubt, for the worthy fowler is an 

 adept in the art of flight -shooting. 



Scarcely has the report died away, than a number of 

 hazy forms flash past the amateur left-handed. 



He sends the contents of a couple of 12-bore cartridges 

 hurtling after the bunch of mallard, and the snap of 

 " Amberite " is answered by a sounding splash in one 

 of the many runnels which drain the saltings. 



