n."

We pushed out into the midst of the marsh, now sinking knee-deep in the
spongy bed, now walking easily on a stretch of firm turf, now stepping
carefully over a boundary ditch of unknown depth--out to the haycocks,
where we sank down, each beside one, to wait for the birds to move.

I do not know how long we waited. The haycock was warm, the night wind
had fallen, the gray sky was turning white, with primrose tones in the
east; the morning star paled and disappeared; the marsh mists partly
lifted, and revealed far inland the soft, dark masses of encircling
woods. And every little while came the whistling call, plaintive, yet
curiously hurried, coming from nowhere. I lay back against the hay, and,
contrary to orders, I let my gun slip down beside me. The fact was, I
had half forgotten that anything definite was expected of me, and when
suddenly I heard a warning "Look out!" from Jonathan's mow, I was in no
way prepared. There was a rush of wings; the air was full of the
whistling notes of the birds as they flew; they passed over us,
circling, rising, sinking, sweeping far up the marsh, then, as Jonathan
whistled their call, circling back again out of the mist at incredible
speed.

Probably it would have made no difference if I had been prepared. A new
kind of game always leaves me dazed, and now I watched them,
spellbound, until I heard Jonathan shoot. Then I made a great effort,
pulled at my trigger, and rolled backwards from my haycock into the
spongy swamp, inches deep with water just there.

Jonathan called across softly, "Shot both barrels, didn't you?"

I rose slowly, wishing there were some way of wringing out my entire
back. "Of course not!" I gasped indignantly.

"Think not?" very benevolently from the other cock. "'Twouldn't have
kicked like that if you hadn't. Look at your gun and see."

I reseated myself damply upon the haycock. "I tell you I _didn't_. Why
should I shoot both at once, I'd like to know! I--never--"

Here I stopped, for as I broke open my gun I saw two dented cartridges,
and as I pulled them out white smoke rolled from both barrels. There
seemed nothing further to be said, at least by a woman, so I said
nothing. Jonathan also, though human, said nothing. It is crises like
these that test character. I turned my cool back to the east, that the
rising sun, if it ever really got thoroughly risen, might warm it, and
grimly reloaded. Jonathan continued his call to the birds, and when they