“Why doesn’t it move?” demanded Grant.
“Don’t you know that herons often stand like that for a long, long time? If you’re going to shoot that fellow you’d better get a move on yourself though.”
“I can’t hit him from here.”
“Don’t try. Sneak up closer.”
“Give me the gun, Grant,” exclaimed Fred. “If you don’t care anything about shooting him I’d like a try at it myself.”
“No, you don’t,” said Grant quickly, and rising to his feet he crouched low and began to run swiftly down towards the shore of the lake.
“Follow those bushes along the shore,” directed George. “Don’t let him see you, whatever you do.”
“He’s all right so far,” said Fred. “He’s got good protection down as far as the water anyway.”
“I hope he gets it,” exclaimed John eagerly. “He’s certainly a good shot and that ought to help some.”
“Oh, he’ll get it all right,” said George. He and Fred looked at each other for a moment and then both burst into silent but uncontrollable laughter.