“Begin shootee soon,” said Ching rather anxiously.
“Why?”
“Velly muchee sail boat behind think why we come.”
“There goes something, Herrick,” said Mr Brooke just then, and I looked up and saw a bird flying over the river at a tremendous rate.
I raised my piece quickly, fired, and as soon as I was a little clear of the smoke, fired again.
“You hit him, sir!” said our stroke-oar. “I see him wag his tail.”
“It was a miss,” I said quietly.
“Velly good,” whispered Ching. “Allee men in other boat look see;” while I replaced the cartridges in my gun, and looked shoreward, to see that the land was level for miles, and that little flocks of duck or other birds were flying here and there. Soon after a wisp of about a dozen came right over head, and as they approached the men rested upon their oars till Mr Brooke had fired, without result.
He looked at me and smiled, while the men pulled again,
