“But suppose they don’t come?” said Tom. “I know if I was a piewipe I wouldn’t be cheated by a few dummies and some pegged-down birds.”
“But then you are not a piewipe, only a goose,” said Dick.
“Hist!” whispered Dave, and placing his fingers to his mouth he sent out over the grey water so exact an imitation of the green plover’s cry that Dick looked at him in wonder, for this was something entirely new.
Pee-eugh, pee-eugh, pee-eugh! And the querulous cry was answered from a distance by a solitary lapwing, which came flapping along in a great hurry, sailed round and round, and finally dropped upon the little narrow island and began to run about.
“You won’t pull for him, will you, Dave?” whispered Dick.
Dave shook his head, and the boys watched as from time to time the man uttered the low mournful cry.
“Wonder what that chap thinks of the stuffed ones?” whispered Dick.
“Why don’t the live ones tell him it isn’t safe?” said Tom.
“Don’t know; perhaps they’re like old Tom Tallington,” said Dick: “whenever they get into a mess they like to get some one else in it too.”
“You say that again and I’ll hit you,” whispered Tom, holding up his fist menacingly.