“However, I didn’t waste time in admiration. I couldn’t very well risk a shot from where I was, it was a bit too far, and the old gun I had wasn’t very brilliant. So I crept along, crawled down a bank, and found myself on a flat that ran to the water’s edge, where reeds, growing thickly, screened me from the ducks’ sight.
“That was simple enough. I crawled across this flat, taking no chances, careless of mud, and wet, and sword grass, which isn’t the nicest thing to crawl among at any time, as you can imagine; it’s absolutely merciless to face and hands.”
“And jolly awkward to stalk ducks in,” Jim commented, “the rustle would give you away in no time.”
The Hermit nodded.
“Yes,” he said, “that’s its worst drawback, or was, on this occasion. It certainly did rustle; however, I crept very slowly, and the ducks were kind enough to think I was the wind stirring in the reeds. At any rate, they went on swimming, and feeding quite peacefully. I got a good look at them through the fringe of reeds, and then, like a duffer, although I had a good enough position, I must try and get a better one.
“So I crawled a little farther down the bank, trying to reach a knoll which would give me a fine sight of the game, and at the same time form a convenient rest for my gun. I had almost reached it when the sad thing happened. A tall, spear-like reed, bending over, gently and intrusively tickled my nose, and without the slightest warning, and very greatly to my own amazement, I sneezed violently.
“If I was amazed, what were the ducks! The sneeze was so unmistakably human, so unspeakably violent. There was one wild whirr of wings, and my ducks scrambled off the placid surface of the water like things possessed. I threw up my gun and fired wildly; there was no time for deliberate taking of aim, with the birds already half over the ti-tree at the other side.”
“Did you get any?” Jim asked.
“One duck,” said the Hermit sadly. “And even for him I had to swim; he obligingly chose a watery grave just to spite me, I believe. He wasn’t much of a duck either. After I had stripped and swum for him, dressed again, prepared the duck, cooked him, and finally sat down to dinner, there was so little of him that he only amounted to half a meal, and was tough at that!”
“So was your luck,” observed Wally.