266 MELTON AND HOMESPUN 



harboured, I called the dog to heel, clambered over the 

 embankment, and commenced what was to prove a 

 successful stalk. 



Although the marshes were white with frost of the 

 preceding night, the long, rough grass growing along 

 the base of the sea-wall deadened my footsteps, while 

 the wind blew directly from the birds to myself, and, 

 therefore, they would be unable to scent me. Upon 

 approaching my landmark — the thorn clump — T pro- 

 ceeded more cautiously than before, while old " Jet," 

 who seemed to know instinctively what was afoot, crept 

 close to heel. Pushing my gun before me, I crawled up 

 between the straggling growers of the blackthorn until 

 my head was level with the top of the sea-wall; then, 

 shielding every portion of my anatomy behind the 

 friendly bush, I peered down upon the gully below. 

 Yes ! the teal were there right enough, for I could see 

 the " stern " of one projecting beyond the high spit of 

 mud, behind which was, doubtless, resting the whole 

 " spring." 



Now, as every gunner is aware, it is no easy matter to 

 gauge distance across either mud or water, more especi- 

 ally if the weather be at all hazy, as was the case on that 

 particular morning. I judged, however, the little duck 

 to be not more than forty yards distant from my " hide," 

 and therefore well within range. 



A shrill whistle was sufficient to set the teal a-wing 

 instantly, and as they rose in a bunch, a couple dropped 

 stone dead to the contents of my two barrels, while 

 another, hard hit, struggled on gamely as far as the edge 

 of the creek, into which he pitched with a splash, to be 

 gathered a minute later by old "Jet." 



