t gave the thing a spice. Belts of sand were
dangerously soft and the tides were treacherous. Sometimes they rose
faster than one reckoned.

"The brant-geese can't be far off," he remarked presently. "It's a
pretty big gaggle and I expect some of the fat gray-lag are feeding
with them."

Jake looked at the water. "If you want a shot, I guess you'll go on;
but if I'd been alone, I'd have started home some time since. The
tide's rising fast."

"We have a quarter of an hour yet," said Jim. "Anyhow, we'll shove on
for the next bend."

They went on. Their waders and oilskins scarcely showed against the
sand, and the murmur of the current drowned the noise they made. As
they came near the bend the calling of the geese got louder, there was
a creaking beat of wings and some of the harsh cries had a different
note.

"Grey-lag," said Jim. "Another lot is coming up. They'll fly across
to the marsh when the tide moves them."

"It will move us soon," Jake rejoined.

When they reached the corner Jim was a short distance in front. The
geese were obviously restless and he crouched as low as he could get.
Jake found a hollow in the bank where the sand, undermined by the
current, had fallen down, and stood with the water creeping to his
feet. He imagined it would nearly reach his waist in mid-channel, and
they must soon get across. The beat of wings began again and harsh
cries echoed in the mist. The geese were moving and Jake balanced his
gun when Jim rose half-upright. The bank behind Jim was low and his
bent figure was outlined against the glimmering reflection of the tide.

Then, although he did not know if he had heard a noise or not, Jake
looked round and saw a long gray object slide out of the mist. It was
indistinct and very low in the water, but he knew it was a shooting
punt. It drifted up the channel towards him; a faint ripple indicating
that somebody was steering it with a short paddle. A blurred figure
lay in the well behind a bunch of reeds, and the only bold line was the
barrel of the big punt-gun that would throw a pound of shot. Jim could
not see the punt, because he was looking the other way, but it was
obvious that the gunner could see him, although Jake thought he himself
was invisible against the bank.

As a rule, one cannot aim a punt-gun; one must turn the punt, and Jake
noted that the craft swerved. The long barrel was now in line with
Jim, and although the man on board was probab