I nodded approvingly. "Where will you be?" I asked.
He jerked his head toward the right "Oh, we shall be down the coast. Do you think you know your way to the house?"
"I guess I can find it," I said, smiling. The idea of being "bushed" on three miles of Sussex mud-flats struck me as a rather entertaining one.
"Well, then," said Maurice, "p'raps you won't mind finding your own road back when the flight's over. It will save us coming round this way again. Don't bother about the duck. If you leave them in the punt, I'll tell one of the men to come back and bring them up to the house."
"We'll send him along with a trolly—what?" put in the humorous Vane.
They tramped off, leaving me alone in my glory. For some few minutes I sat on the bank, watching them walking away down the creek, and wondering what pleasant surprise Maurice's arrangements might foreshadow. That there was mischief of some sort on foot I felt certain, but it was difficult to guess exactly what shape it would assume. Standing up, I cast a wary eye over my surroundings. As far as I could see, with the exception of the little island to which Maurice had directed my attention, and the long strip of land opposite, there was no cover anywhere sufficiently big to conceal a rabbit. Of Billy I could see nothing: if he was hanging about in a boat, it must be round the bend of the coast away to the left, where the sea wall jutted out into the saltings.
Untying the punt, I stepped in and pushed off towards the island. It struck me that if the danger lurked there, it would be just as well to land before the rest of the party were out of hearing. Unless York and Vane were in the plot, which seemed highly improbable, my safety would be pretty well assured so long as they were within reasonable distance.
A few strokes of the paddle brought me to my destination. The island, though thickly covered, was sufficient to show that I had it entirely to myself. I tied the punt to a snag on the landward side, and after one last look round settled myself down to wait for the duck, or whatever else might turn up.
I had been there for perhaps ten minutes, when from the strip of land on the farther side of the creek came the weird, melancholy cry of a curlew. I took my gun and started to rise cautiously to my feet. As I did so, a sudden inspiration—a veritable flash from the gods—leaped into my mind. I sank down again and, taking off the slouch hat I was wearing, placed it on the barrels of my gun. Then, very slowly and cautiously, I raised it above the reeds.
Bang!