“I’m inclined to think you’re right,” admitted Fred. “But why were they so careful about making a noise? Hook, they must have known there was someone in that camp.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me if you had stated the reason for their caution. Furthermore, they must be wise to the way the ducks usually fly here, and they have the advantage of us by hiding on that point.”
One after another, the dog retrieved the dead birds and carried them to the point, finally disappearing from view.
“If some of the birds will only keep far enough from that point, we may get some shooting yet, old man,” said Roy hopefully.
In a short time another flock, larger than the first, was seen coming up the pond, and, to the great satisfaction of the boys, they were flying over the exact middle of the water, and would therefore pass beyond gun-shot of the unknown hunters, unless they should change their course.
“It’s our turn now,” exulted Roy. “I think that bunch will come in here. Something doing in a minute or two, old chap.”
There was—something tremendously provoking; for, as the flock came opposite the low point, both of the unseen sportsmen fired, although, with any reasonable amount of judgment, they must have realized that there was not one chance in a thousand that they could make a kill. Those shots, however, were sufficient to cause the flock to swerve, swing about in a half circle, and go speeding off into the distance.
Hooker said something violent, while Sage ground his strong teeth together.
“The chumps! The miserable, sneaking idiots!” raged Roy. “If they have a bit of sense in their bone-heads, they must have known they couldn’t start a feather at that distance. Why do you suppose they were foolish enough to try it?”
“I can’t imagine any reason, unless they were determined to spoil our chance,” answered Fred, who was now furious enough to fight. “If they keep that addle-pated business up, we won’t get a shot this morning.”