"We'll make a round through the fields first," said Maurice. "It's no use getting to the water before six, and we may pick up a few pheasants and hares if the light's good enough."
I did not wait for instructions, but slipped into a place between York and Vane. I thought it very unlikely that Maurice would himself attempt anything in the gun-accident line, but even so, there was no point in running unnecessary risks. You never know what sudden happy inspiration may illuminate the mind of an embarrassed heir.
Off we went, the dogs ranging round us, and a couple of nondescript gentlemen in corduroy trousers bringing up the rear. It relieved my mind to perceive that neither of them had guns.
This sort of shooting was, of course, quite new to me, but I have too often been dependent upon my gun for my supper to be likely to miss anything in the nature of a confiding English bird. Indeed, when York sang out his congratulations to me for toppling over a fast-flying pheasant, I began to think that perhaps it would be more judicious if I restrained my abilities. Except for his money-getting and love-making talents, I was so confoundedly in the dark as to what Northcote could do.
About half-past five we arrived at the bank of a long salt-water creek. It was perhaps a quarter of a mile wide, and protected from the sea by a strip of land running parallel with the coast. A desolate sort of spot, very like bits of the Argentine seaboard, without so much as a cottage or a hut to break the loneliness of the surrounding marsh. The only object in sight was an old punt, moored to a stake under the bank.
"We must split up now," said Maurice, turning to the rest of us. "There are four or five places where you can get a good shot at the duck as they come over, and this is one of them. What do you say, Stuart? Would you like to stay here?"
He asked the question with such frank carelessness that for a moment I wondered whether it was really possible that he was planning my extinction. Anyhow, I had no intention of refusing. I wanted to see what was going to happen.
"I'll stay where I am, certainly," I said. "What's the programme?"
He pointed to a small, sandy spit covered with reeds, half-way across the creek.
"You must punt over to that," he said, "and tie up the boat this side. About half-past six the duck will come right over you, and if you're well hidden you ought to get in a couple of good shots at least."