The Aleut boy kept on his stealthy approach—little by little—until finally he was within thirty or forty yards of the edge of the water, along which the great wild-fowl were scattered. Rob nudged him to get up and throw, but Skookie knew his own business better. Without uttering a sound he crawled forward rapidly a few paces, on his hands and knees, then sprang to his feet and ran rapidly through the grass toward the edge of the water, uttering the while wild whoops as he began to swing the thongs about his head.
“Look out!” cried John. “They’ll all get away! Why don’t he throw?”
But Skookie did not undertake to throw so long as the geese were on the ground. He knew that the young geese were weak and not used to flight, and that even at its best a wild goose is slow and heavy to take wing.
THE ALEUT BOY LAUNCHED HIS MISSILE INTO THE MASS OF FLYING FOWL
All these geese, some scores of young and old, intermingled, now began to scream, squawk, and honk, and clumsily to take wing as best they could. Thus they rose in a confused brown mass, almost in the face of the young hunter, who advanced rapidly, whirling the weighted cords about his head. At precisely the right instant, and not upset by the sudden clamor of the rising fowl, the Aleut boy straightened his arm in front of him and launched his missile with precision into the very middle of the flapping mass of flying fowl.
The execution done was perhaps no more than he expected, but as the white boys saw his success they broke into a cheer. As the startled flock screamed and honked away, down came two of the fowl, one with broken wing and another laid fair about the neck by the gripping cords which had encircled it. Before they could escape, all the boys were after them, plunging into the mud and water, careless of anything but their game. They found that one of their geese was an old gander, but the other was a fat young bird, which John fondled with the utmost interest.
“I’ll bet you this one’ll be good to eat!” said he. “Let’s go back and see how it goes.”