Circumventing the Red-Skins.
For some time the brothers paddled about the sedgy shore of the small islet on which the camp had been pitched, now setting up a flock of ducks and then slipping into the heart of some reeds and concealing themselves until a good chance was obtained at a passing flock of geese.
Archie Sinclair soon laid in enough provision to serve the party for a few meals, for his hand was steady and his eye true.
“Little Bill,” he said, looking back after one of his successful shots, “you must take a shot now. We will go right-about-face, and convert the bow into the stern in the usual way. See, catch hold of the gun.”
“No, Arch-ee, as Oké calls you, I won’t; I’m quite content to look on, for your gun kicks like a Mexican mule. Besides, it’s easy work to steer, and seeing you panting and toiling in the bow makes it seem all the easier. Just you keep blazin’ away, old man. But, I say, where shall I
steer to now? I’m tired o’ steering among the reeds. Let us push out into the clear water.”
“You heard what Oké said,” objected Archie; “we must keep well clear o’ both shores.”
“I know that,” returned Billie, “but he did not forbid us to try the reeds round the other islands; there’s a much bigger one, not a quarter of a mile up stream. I think there are some beautiful sedges there where geese are likely to live. I’m sure I would choose to live in such a place if I was a goose.”
“O! then, we must go, Little Bill, for I think it would be hard to keep any one out of his native home.”