“Well—yes; and to some little expense also,” replied the ex-sergeant. “How much do you suppose one of those big guns cost?”
Don replied that he had no idea, having never seen one of them.
“I saw one last summer that cost six hundred dollars in England,” continued Egan. “It was captured by a detective who was sent here by some Baltimore sportsmen. You see, some of the rich men who live in that city, and in New York and Philadelphia, pay high prices for the exclusive use of a portion of these ducking shores, and they get mad when the market-shooters come around with their howitzers, and scare all the birds away to other feeding-grounds.”
“I don’t blame them for getting mad,” said Don.
“Neither do I. If a man pays four or five hundred dollars a year for a shooting privilege, it is because he thinks he and his friends will have some sport out of it.”
“You don’t mean to say that these shores rent for any such sum as that!” exclaimed Don.
“Don’t I, though?” replied Egan. “Father has been importuned time and again to lease his shores to different clubs, and he might as well make five hundred or a thousand dollars a year as to let it alone; but he likes to shoot as well as anybody, and he likes to see his visitors enjoy themselves, so he keeps his ducking-points for his own use.”
“Do the big-gunners ever trouble you by shooting over your grounds?”
“Not to any great extent. You see the ducks don’t bed in these narrows; they want plenty of elbow-room.”
“What do you mean by ‘bed’?” inquired Don.