He looked round at a clatter of heavy boots and saw two dark figures against a square of light. Then a door was shut and Dick came up with a man who wore an oilskin cap and jersey. Dick was awkwardly holding a big paper bag.
"It's no' a good night," said the seaman. "I wouldna' say but we might have a shift o' wind before long. They're telling me ye have brought up in the west bay."
"For the night," said Andrew. "It's an exposed place."
"It's a' that. If the wind comes from the south'ard, it will take good ground-tackle to hold ye."
"What about the burnfoot gutter?"
"It's snug enough, but ye might have to stop a week. Ye canna' beat oot when there's any sea running on the sands."
"Are there any geese about?"
"Weel, I did see two or three bernicle, a week ago; but if it's shooting ye want, ye'll have to gang doon west. The geese have moved on, but I hear the duck are throng on the flats roon Deefoot, behind the Ross."
Andrew said nothing. He had picked up Dick at Kirkcudbright on the Dee, but had not seen a duck about the river mouth. It seemed that the man had learned that they came from the head of Solway, but did not know they were then returning from the west. He left them at the end of the village and Andrew then asked Dick what had kept him.
"The eggs," Dick grinned. "Jim insisted on them and I didn't want to disappoint him, though they're scarce just now. I should advise him to take them before they smash; I'm not clever at carrying eggs in a paper bag."