“Too small for food unless we were starving,” said the major. “We shall have to fill our bags with what answer here to cockles and mussels, Mark. We must not go home empty-handed.”
“Shall I try the water first?” said Mark.
“No need,” said the major, pointing to where, at a lesser pool, Bruff and Jack were slaking their thirst.
The example set by the two animals was followed, and deep draughts taken of the delicious water, which was as cool and sweet as the other spring had been nauseous and hot.
“Now, then; forward once more,” said the major. “Just one more mile, and then back, though I believe we could get round, for we must have come so that the huts are quite to the south. Yes; we’re travelling north-west now, and when we started we were going north-east.”
“Hist! Look!” whispered Mark; and he pointed forward.
“Phew!” whistled the major. “Down, Bruff! To heel!”
The dog obeyed, and cocking their guns, and keeping as close to the trees as the rocky nature of the soil would allow, the two hunters approached the game Mark had pointed out.
Strange-looking birds they were, each as big as a small turkey, and, provided that they were not of the gull tribe, promising to be an admirable addition to the pot.
But though they advanced cautiously, neither the major nor Mark could get within shot, the birds taking alarm and scurrying over the sand rapidly.