"Where'll we go for the birds, Sandy?"
"Up the creek, I s'pose. Too far out to the swamp if it's to-night they want them. There's a mob o' woods I'd like to get a smack at—the ones we saw when we were fishin'."
"Jacky told me yesterday he saw 'em the other night roosting on the old dead gum just at the junction of Mosquito Crick an' the Crocodile. How far d'ye call that?"
"'Bout three mile."
"Your mother said we are to try and get some pigeons when we're out."
"Used to be a lot o' pigeons in the scrub; but the last time Dickson and some other coves came out shooting, they went through the scrub, but didn't see a feather—so they said."
"No good goin' there, then?"
"Well, I don't know. We can give it a try, I s'pose. What's the time, Joe?"
"Struck ten as I came along; so we'd bes' be off in less'n no time, sonny."
In a few minutes the boys were loaded up with guns, ammunition, sculls, and the tucker bag. They decided to take the skiff and try their luck on the water, instead of stalking the game along the banks.