erward in John Saunders's snuggery, he averred that the number
was nine!

I don't know who was happier; he, or Sailor, again and again splashing
through the water and returning with a bird in his mouth. As for me, I'm
afraid I am but a half-hearted sportsman, for I noticed that, as the
bang-bang-bang of the gun shivered the silence like a crystal mirror,
those white spirits of the morning, till then massed in dazzling purity
on the mangrove coppice, rose once more in a silver cloud and vanished.
It was as though beauty were leaving the world.

And once more I was thankful for the presence of dreaming and worshipful
youth.

"I shall hate him in a minute," said the boy, but just then came across
the water to him Charlie's jovial challenge to show his marksmanship,
and he took it forthwith with the same nonchalant skill as he did
everything, making, by long odds, as Charlie generously admitted, the
most brilliant shot of the day.

Now duck-hunting, while exciting enough in itself, makes unexciting
reading, and when I have recorded that Charlie's bag for the day was no
less than seven and a half dozen (I am not sure that our figures will
agree) and related one curious incident of the day, I shall leave the
reader to imagine the rest. The incident was this:

Early in the afternoon, Charlie had made one notable killing (five, I
think it was; he will correct me if I am wrong), but one of the birds,
not quite dead, had fluttered away into a particularly dense coppice.
Sailor had been sent in after it, but, after a lot of fussing about,
came out without his bird. Twice Charlie sent him in; with the same
result. So, growing impatient, he got out of his skiff, went splashing
through the marl water himself, and disappeared in the coppice.
Presently we heard his big laugh, and the next second, his gun. A moment
or two after, he reappeared, shouldering a huge black snake. No wonder
Sailor had been unable to find his bird, for, as Charlie had entered the
coppice, the first thing he saw was this snake coiled up in the centre,
with a curious protuberance bulging out his neck. Flying from Charlie's
gun, the unfortunate duck had landed right into the jaws of the snake!
As Charlie ripped open the snake's side--there, sure enough, was the
duck. So he was added to the day's bag; and, if he was among those Tom
cooked for dinner when we reached camp again that evening, he had the
somewhat unusual experience of being eaten twice in one day