They walked on a little further and then, of a sudden, Captain Sanders halted the boys and pointed up into one of the trees.
“Wild pigeons!” exclaimed Dave. “And hundreds of them! Shall I give them a couple of barrels, captain?”
“Might as well, lad. Wild pigeons are good eating, especially when you are hungry. Get as many of ’em as you can.”
Dave approached a little closer and took aim with care. Bang! went the shotgun, and a wild fluttering and flying followed. Bang! went the second barrel of the weapon, and then, as the smoke cleared away, the boys and the captain saw seven of the pigeons come down to the ground. Several others fluttered around and Phil caught one and wrung its neck, and Roger laid another low with a stick he had picked up.
“Fine shots, both of them,” declared Captain Sanders. “Now load up again, Dave, so as to be ready for anything else that shows up.”
“I am afraid I have scared the rest of the game,” declared our hero, and so it proved, for after that they saw nothing but some small birds.
They passed through a thick woods and then came rather unexpectedly to a wall of rocks, all of a hundred feet in height. At the base of the wall was an opening leading into a broad cave. Near the entrance was the remains of a campfire.
“Somebody has been here and that recently!” cried Phil, as he examined the embers.
“Must be Merwell and Jasniff!” cried Dave. “For if they were strangers they would come out and see what the shooting meant.”
“Shall we go into the cave, or continue on the way to the shore?” questioned the senator’s son.