“Did that officer mean to say that Mr. Barr will not be permitted to shoot ducks any more?” inquired Lester.
“He might as well have said so,” answered Enoch, “for if his license is taken away from him, there will be nothing left for him except point shooting.”
“What’s that?”
“Why, standing on a point that juts into the bay, and shooting ducks as they fly over. But Barr couldn’t do that, because the most of the points are leased to clubs, and those that are reserved, are protected by their owners, who will prosecute anybody who sets foot on them. The law regarding trespass is very strict in this State.”
Enoch’s prediction was verified about a quarter of an hour later, for the officers came out of the woods empty-handed. They had not found the big gun, and Enoch assured his companions that they would hear it speak to the ducks that night.
“But suppose these officers should take it into their heads to watch us,” said Jones. “What then?”
“Let ’em watch,” replied Enoch. “Who cares? You don’t for a moment imagine that they would find the big gun, do you? Not by a long shot. The instant they showed themselves the gun would be dropped overboard.”
“And lost?” exclaimed Lester.
“By no means. As soon as the coast was clear, Barr would go back and drag for it. It’s very often done.”
The near approach of the officers put a stop to the conversation. Lester expected them to look crest-fallen over their failure, but they didn’t. They were talking and laughing with each other, and were apparently in the best of spirits.