vender's bed-room, which
already contained about a dozen canvases with sketches in various
stages on them. Then he went out to his friend again.

"I've had a long day to-day, Johnny. I wish you'd go out with me: the
excitement of a squall would clear one's brain, I fancy."

"Oh, I'll go out if you like," Eyre said, "but I shall take very good
care to run in before the squall comes, if there's any about. I don't
think there will be, after all. I fancied I saw a flash of lightning
about half an hour ago down in the south, but nothing has come of it.
There are some curlew about, and the guillemots are in thousands. You
don't seem to care about shooting guillemots, Lavender."

"Well, you see, potting a bird that is sitting on the water--" said
Lavender with a shrug.

"Oh, it isn't as easy as you might imagine. Of course you could kill
them if you liked, but everybody ain't such a swell as you are with a
gun; and mind you, it's uncommonly awkward to catch the right moment
for firing, when the bird goes bobbing up and down on the waves,
disappearing altogether every second second. I think it's very good
fun myself. It is very exciting when you don't know the moment the
bird will dive, and whether you can afford to go any nearer. And as
for shooting them on the water, you have to do that, for when do you
get a chance of shooting them flying?"

"I don't see much necessity for shooting them at any time," said
Lavender as he and Eyre went down to the shore again, "but I am glad
to see you get some amusement out of it. Have you got cartridges with
you? Is your gun in the boat?"

"Yes. Come along. We'll have a run out, any how."

When they pulled out again to that cockle-shell craft with its stone
ballast and big brown mainsail, the boy was sent ashore and the two
companions set out by themselves. By this time the sun had gone down,
and a strange green twilight was shining over the sea. As they got
farther out the dusky shores seemed to have a pale mist hanging around
them, but there were no clouds on the hills, for a clear sky shone
overhead, awaiting the coming of the stars. Strange indeed was the
silence out here, broken only by the lapping of the water on the sides
of the boat and the calling of birds in the distance. Far away the
orange ray of a lighthouse began to quiver in the lambent dusk. The
pale green light on the waves did not die out, but the shadows grew
darker, so that Eyre, with his gun close at hand, could