“You’re a peach!” cried George, in dismay, as he rose from behind the rock and surveyed his friend, who was still floundering about in the tangle of deadwood.
“Did they hear me?” inquired Ed, anxiously.
“Hear you! Why—”
Bang, bang!
The report of a gun sounded across the water from the direction of the point toward which the geese had flown. Running to the water’s edge, the boys saw the bodies of two dead geese floating on the surface some distance out. Looking along the shore, they beheld Ben, gun in hand, waving to them.
“Well, what do you think of that?” asked George.
“Beat us at our own game; but we’ll eat goose, anyhow,” laughed Ed, slapping his friend on the back.
Ben was calling across to them, and they listened to catch his words.
“Hey, you fellows, watch those birds. I guess they’re dead, all right, and I’ll come around and get the canoe.”
The boys sat down at the edge of the lake, and Ben disappeared into the woods. When he joined them they entered the canoe and went out to where the geese were drifting slowly away. Ben steadied the frail craft while the boys lifted the heavy birds in over the side.