where La Salle and his companion, who had seen
them from the first, picked out a brace at long but practicable range,
while the retreating birds flew up the channel towards Nine Mile Creek,
where two more fell to Risk and the elder Davies. For over an hour the
remaining bird flew with clamorous cries about the scene of his
bereavement, until a stranger, who had erected an ice-house, and placed
a few rude decoys a few hundred yards from the bar, called him down, and
fired a shot which dropped him on the ice.

[Illustration: "GIE ME MY GUSE, MON, AND DINNA DELAY ME." Page 97.]

He seemed to be little hurt, however; for, getting to his feet, he
walked rapidly away in the direction of the sea ice, followed by the
stranger, who did not attempt to use the long gun which he carried with
him even when the bird took wing and flew heavily between the ice-houses
on the East Bar, where a long shot from La Salle's gun brought him down
dead. La Salle brought in the bird, and while reloading his gun, the
stranger came up and claimed it as his.

He was a tall, lean, sharp-featured man, with long, lank hair, a dark
complexion, and large lack-luster eyes, imbedded in cavernous hollows.
His gun was not loaded, nor did he wear either shot-bag or powder-horn;
and his weapon, an ancient Highland Scotch "fusee" changed to
percussion, seemed as worn out and dilapidated as the owner.

"Gie me my guse, mon, and dinna delay me, for I hae much to do the day,
and I munna be hindered in my mission," was the strange salutation of
the original, as he leaned upon his gun at the side of the boat.

"You are welcome to your goose, friend, although I fear that you would
have had a long chase, if the Baby there had not put in her word in the
matter. Here is your bird, sir;" and La Salle handed the body to the
unknown, who, after examining it closely, sighed heavily, and
replied,--

"It's a braw bird, but it's nae the king o' the geese."

"The king of the geese, friend? What do you mean?" said Kennedy,
sharply.

"O, naething; that is, naething to ye, sirs; but to me, O yes, to me
everything. Ah," said he, plaintively, "how mony days hae I sat through
storm, and frost, and sleet! how mony nights hae I watched in the still
moonlight, amang the reedy creeks! how mony times I hae weized a slug
through a bird a'maist amang the clouds! but I hae had a' my labor in
vain, in vain."

"But how do you know that you have not already shot the king of the
geese