ly steering towards the
bank for concealment, Jake thought there was something sinister about
his quiet approach. He remembered that Shanks owned the only punt on
the lower bay. He waited a few moments, unwilling to call out, lest he
should spoil his comrade's shot, but feeling disturbed. The punt was
about fifty yards from Jim and the heavy shot would not spread much;
Jake admitted that his disturbance was perhaps illogical, but he did
not like the way the big gun pointed.

When the punt was level with him he stepped out from the bank. The
indistinct figure on board did not move, but the craft swerved again
and the gun pointed straight up the channel. Jake did not know if this
was significant or not, because the current eddied, but he imagined the
fellow had seen him. Then Jim threw his gun to his shoulder and a red
flash leaped from the muzzle. There was a splash, but next moment Jake
saw a dark object overhead and pulled the trigger. The goose came
down, whirling over with long neck hanging limp, until it struck the
other bank, and Jake plunged into the channel.

"Pick up your bird and get across," he shouted, while the current
rippled about his legs.

For the next minute or two they were occupied. The tide ran fast, the
bottom was soft, and Jim's goose drifted away. He reached it, however,
and they came out on the other bank. Jake could see nothing but the
glimmering water and a narrow belt of wet sand. The geese had flown
off and the punt had vanished in the fog.

"We stopped long enough, but we've got a brant and a gray-lag. You
ought to be satisfied," he said.

"I'd have got another if you hadn't been so anxious to get across," Jim
rejoined. "Wasn't there a punt about? I thought I saw something as I
threw up my gun."

"Yes," said Jake, dryly, "Shanks' punt!"

"Of course! Nobody else keeps a punt on the low marsh. Well, we
spoiled his shot and I expect he'll feel he has a fresh grievance.
That is, if he knew who I was."

"I reckon he knew all right," Jake remarked. "Nobody else has been on
the sands for some weeks."

Jim looked at him rather hard. "Anyhow, it doesn't matter. Let's get
home. There's a hole in my wader and the water has leaked through.
This sport is pretty good, but you need a punt. I'll order one from
the fellow across the bay."

They set off and Jake could not tell if he had excited his comrade's
suspicions. Jim was sometimes reserved. Jake admitted that his ow