A week's duck shooting at POOLE. 11 



the money to see what one can eat. And that whisky I 

 Ted declared emphatically — took his dying davy, in fact, 

 whatever that may mean — that it would be a ^^ downright 

 cruel shame for to go and put water in that grog/' and 

 that Ireland couldn't be such a bad place after all^ if 

 they made such stuff as that over there. 



Curling ourselves up under the straw and horse rugs, 

 we lit our pipes, and felt hke three boa-constrictors 

 who had swallowed a camel or two apiece. Bill, I can 

 affirm, like the fat boy in " Pickwick/' '^ swelled wisibly 

 out afore my very eyes." Not the least part of our 

 enjoyment, moreover, was the sight of a small knob 

 of seven teal dropping gently down with the tide right 

 abeam, evidently on their way to their feeding ground 

 up the latch. 



'' Bless'd if I don't think them teal '11 come within 

 shot of the big gun," said Ted, with his nose just over 

 the gunwale ; " give 'em a try, sir." 



It certainly seemed " hard lines" on the birds as they 

 evidently thought the boat was empty, and anchored for 

 the evening. I rested the " Armstrong " over the rail, 

 and as they passed fifty yards off in straggling order, 

 Ted suddenly showed himself. They threw up their 

 heads and crowded together in a bunch. '' Now's your 

 time, sir," and away went the cargo of mould shot into 

 'em, killing three outright, and crippling two, one of 

 whom immediately made for the mud, and the other 

 commenced diving. Overboard went Fan after this 

 latter gentleman, while I got into the punt, and, slipping 

 on a pair of mud pattens, went " skooting " after the 

 other; but before I had gone five yards, head over heels I 

 went. " Never mind, sir ; up yer are, and come along ! " 

 shouted Bill, sliding ahead like a lamplighter. Down I 



