A large flock of big dark birds were sitting and standing within easy range. Many were still asleep with their heads under-their wings, some were preening their feathers and half a dozen stood watchful with their long necks erect.
One big old gander became restless. He seemed to be looking and listening in the direction of the hunters. He stood still a few seconds. Then he uttered a loud honk and with a great thunderous flapping of their big wings, the while flock rose in the gray morning air.
Both hunters fired twice, and four of the big birds dropped before they could get under way. Three fell on the sand dead, but the fourth turned and fell into the brush some hundred yards below them.
“Mark the spot,” ordered Barker, “and load your gun. Be quick, or we’ll lose it.”
They hurried to the spot where the goose had dropped into the bushes. A few scattered feathers were there, but no bird.
“Now we must circle around to find that goose,” Barker told his companion. “It can’t have gone far.”
For half an hour they searched the whole neighborhood with the greatest care, but not a trace did they discover of the wounded bird.
“I reckon we have to give it up,” the trapper said at last. “It beats me how a wild creature can hide itself. Perhaps the goose got back into the water and is now swimming down the river.
“I have known a wounded duck to dive and bite itself fast to some bottom weeds and die without coming up.”
Tatanka had a big breakfast ready when the hunters reached camp and after breakfast Bill and Barker dressed and smoked their game.