“How vexatious!” cried Brazier, stamping his foot.
“There goes our supper!” grumbled Shaddy; “and that’s about the joociest bird I know.”
“I wish I’d given it the other barrel,” said Brazier.
“Better load, sir,” said Shaddy. “Never mind. You’ll get another chance soon. Eh? Oh, very well then, have a try.”
This was to one of the boatmen, who, roused by the shot, came up smiling with his sword-like knife in his hand, evidently with the intention of cutting his way in and trying to retrieve the bird.
“I don’t think it is of any use,” said Brazier.
“Dunno, sir. Perhaps it is. The bird was hard hit, and maybe hasn’t gone far. Let him try. He may just as well do that as lie and sleep.”
They both stopped for a few minutes watching the man, who bent down, and going on all-fours, passed in between the interlacing growth. They saw his feet for a few moments, and then he disappeared altogether, while Brazier and Shaddy both returned to their stations.
“What a pity!” grumbled the latter. “’Bout the nicest birds I know—when you’re hungry. There’ll be another shot for him soon, though, for they go in flocks in open bits of land near water.”
“What bird was it?” said Rob—“a turkey?”