He turned to Harry, as if to ascertain whether he objected to this, but the boy laughed.
"If you don't know of any, I needn't bother about the thing," he answered. "There's a moderate breeze right off the beach and the guns couldn't be heard far to windward."
"I'm not sure I'd mind them being heard if anybody chanced to be about. It might save the inquisitive stranger from wondering what we were doing here, and the excuse strikes me as a nicer one than going swimming late at night in front of a Siwash rancherie."
Harry chuckled. "Wait until you fall over your boot tops into a pool, or follow a crippled duck through the water."
"I shall endeavor to avoid the first thing," said Mr. Barclay. "There's a remedy for the other, so long as I've two assistants."
They went back to the beach and waited there some time until Frank heard a regular beat of wings, and a drawn-out wedge of dusky bodies appeared above the trees dotted upon the sky. He was farthest from them and he watched Mr. Barclay, who had brought a gun with him, standing, an indistinct, half-seen figure thirty or forty yards away. At last the man threw up his arms, there was a quick yellow flash, a crash, and then a second streak of flame leaping from the smoke. After that there followed two distinct and unmistakable thuds, and Frank pitched up his gun as Harry fired. He heard two jarring reports and running forward saw Mr. Barclay pick up a bird that had fallen almost at his feet.
"There's another over yonder," the latter remarked.
Harry found it in a minute or two and handed it to him.
"One with each barrel!" he said, and added with a rueful laugh, "I don't see any more about."
"Then I think we'll take a look around the island," Mr. Barclay answered.