So they crouched there in the punt, waiting and growing more cold and cramped, fidgeting and changing their positions, and making waves seem to rise from under the boat to go whispering among the reeds.
Every now and then Tom uttered a sigh and Dick an impatient grunt, while at these movements Dave smiled but made no other sign, merely watching patiently. His eyes glittered, and their lids passed over them rapidly from time to time; otherwise he was as motionless as if carved out of old brown boxwood, an idea suggested by the colour of his skin.
“I say,” said Dick at last, as there were tokens in the distance of the day coming to an end with mist and fine rain, “I am getting so hungry! Got anything to eat, Dave?”
“When we’ve done, lads.”
“But haven’t we done? No birds will come to-day.”
Dave did not answer, only smiled very faintly; and it seemed as if the lad was right, for the sky and water grew more grey, and though the stuffed birds appeared to be diligently feeding, and those which were tethered hopped about and fluttered their wings, while the two free ones ran here and there, flew away and returned, as if exceedingly mystified at the state of affairs on that long, narrow strip of land, Dave’s calls seemed to be as vain as the snares he had made.
“I wonder whether these birds break their shins in running over the meshes of the net!” said Dick after a long yawn. “Oh, I say, Dave, there’s no fun in this; let’s go!”
“Hist! pee-eugh, pee-eugh!” whistled Dave loudly, and then in quite a low tone that sounded distant, and this he kept up incessantly and with a strange ventriloquial effect.
The boys were all excitement now, for they grasped at once the cause of their companion’s rapid change of manner. For there in the distance, coming down with the wind in scattered flight and as if labouring heavily to keep themselves up, appeared a flock of lapwings pretty well a hundred strong.
“Hooray! At last, Tom!” cried Dick. “Will they come and settle on the net, Dave?”