"Oh, no; the lake is a good feeding-ground, and they would stay, perhaps, all day, if they were not disturbed."
In about an hour the day began to dawn; and, as soon as objects on the opposite side of the creek could be discerned, Frank led the way across the bridge. A short run through the woods brought them to the swamp.
Now the hunt began in earnest. The swamp was covered with water, which, in some places, was two feet deep; and the trees and bushes grew so thick, that it was with difficulty that they could work their way through them. Besides, they were obliged to proceed very carefully, for every step brought them nearer the game; and the slightest splashing in the water, or even the snapping of a twig, might alarm them.
At length they found themselves on the shore of the lake; and, peering out from behind a thicket, where they had crept for concealment, they discovered, about half-way to the opposite shore, as fine a flock of geese as one would wish to see—fifteen of them in all. They were swimming around, turning their heads first one way and then the other, as if they had been alarmed.
"It's a long shot, isn't it?" said Archie, measuring the distance with his eye.
"Yes," answered his cousin; "but that is not the worst of it; they are getting further away from us every moment."
"Well," said Archie, cocking his gun, and pushing it carefully through the bushes, "you be ready to take them as they rise."
As he spoke he took a quick aim at the nearest of the flock, and pulled the trigger. The cap snapped.
"Plague on the gun!" he exclaimed. "Shall I throw it in the lake!"
"No, no," answered Frank; "try the other barrel; and you had better be quick about it—they're going to fly."