"

"The night!" I exclaimed in amazement. "But, my good friend, I have no
intention of wearing out my welcome; I had planned to get home for
luncheon."

"Impossible!" he replied. "We are now completely surrounded by water. It
is always so at high tide at this end of the bay. Come, see for
yourself. Besides, you don't know how glad I am that we can have the
chance to shoot together. I've been waiting weeks for this wind."

He blew out the candle, and again opened the firing-slit. As far as one
could see the distant sea was one vast sweep of roaring water.

"You see," he said, closing the firing-slit and striking a match--"you
_must_ stay. I have plenty of dry clothes for you in the locker, and we
shall not go hungry." He drew out a basket from beneath the cot and took
from it a roasted chicken, two litres of red wine, and some bread and
cheese, which he laid on the shelf. "A present," he remarked, "from one
of my parishioners. You know, I have no _bonne_."

"I have heard so," said I.

He laughed softly. "One hears everything in the village. Ah! But what
good children they are! They even forgive my love of shooting!" He
crossed his strong arms in the rusty black sleeves of his cassock, and
for some moments looked at me seriously. "You think it strange, no
doubt, irreverent, for a cure to shoot," he continued. "Forgive me if I
have shocked the ideas of your faith."

"Nonsense!" I returned, raising my hand in protest. "You are only human,
an honest sportsman. We understand each other perfectly."

"Thank you," he returned, with sincerity. "I was afraid you might not
understand--you are the first American I have ever met."

He began taking out an outfit of sailor's clothes from the locker--warm
things--which I proceeded to get into with satisfaction. I had just
poked my head through the rough jersey and buckled my belt when our
decoys again gave warning.

Out went the candle.

"Mallards!" whispered the cure. "Here, take this gun, quick! It is the
marquis's favourite," he added in a whisper.

He reached for another breech-loader, motioned me to the chair, let down
the three compartments of the firing-slit, and stretched himself out
full length on the cot, his keen eyes scanning the bay at a glance.

We were just in time--a dozen mallards were coming straight for our
decoys.

Bang! thundered the cure's gun.

Bang! Bang! echoed my own. Then another roar from the cure's left
barrel. When the smoke cleared three