“Ay, Benjy, I want that goose. You shoot it, my boy.”
“But you’ll never be able to get it, uncle,” said Leo.
“Benjy, I want that goose. You shoot it.” There was no disobeying this peremptory command. Leo handed the rifle to the boy.
“Down on one knee, Ben, Hythe position, my boy,” said the Captain, in the tone of a disciplinarian. Benjy obeyed, took a long steady aim, and fired.
“Bravo!” shouted the Captain as the bird turned breast up. “There’s that goose’s brother comin’ to see what’s the matter with him; just cook his goose too, Benjy.”
The boy aimed again, fired, and missed.
“Again!” cried the Captain, “look sharp!”
Again the boy fired, and this time wounded the bird as it was rising on the wing.
Although wounded, the goose was quite able to swim, and made rapidly towards the reeds on the other side.
“What! am I to lose that goose?” cried the Captain indignantly.