The breath of us is whistling through our nostrils, like the muffled exhaust of a gasoline engine, and our hearts are thumping two-steps on our ribs from the exertion, when we reach the end of the rock-bestrewn point which, like a long index finger, is thrust out into the bosom of the lake. The wind, still dead north, and laden with tiny drops of moisture, like spray from a giant atomizer, buffets us steadily; but thereof we are sublimely unconscious.

For at last we are there, there; precisely where we were yesterday––no, a year ago––and the light is strong enough now, so that when our gun-barrels stand out against the sky, we can see the sights, and––

Down! Down, behind the nearest stunted willow tree; behind anything––quick!––for they’re coming: a great dim wedge, with the apex toward us, coming swiftly on wings that 297 propel two miles to the minute, when backed by a wind that makes a mile in one.

Coming––no; arrived. Fair overhead are the white of breasts, of plump bodies flashing through the mist, the swishing hiss of many wings cutting the air, the rhythmic pat, pat––“Bang! Bang!

Was it Sandford’s gun, or was it mine? Who knows? The reports were simultaneous.

And then––splash! and a second later,––splash! as two dots leave the hurtling wedge and, with folded wings, pitch at an angle, following their own momentum, against the dull brown surface of the rippling water.

Through the intervening branches and dead sunflower stalks, I look at Sandford––to find that Sandford is looking at me.

“Good work, old man!” I say, and notice that my voice is a little higher than normal.

“Good work, yourself,”––generously. “I missed clean, both barrels. Do better next time, though, perhaps.... Down! Mark north! Take the leader, you.”

From out the mist, dead ahead, just skimming the surface of the water, and coming 298 straight at us, like a mathematically arranged triangle of cannon balls, taking definite form and magnitude oh, so swiftly, unbelievably swift; coming––yes––directly overhead, as before, the pulsing, echoing din in our ears.