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 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 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.
"_Ready!_"
Again the four reports that sounded as two; and they are past; no
longer a regular formation, but scattered erratically by the alarm,
individual vanishing and dissolving dots, speedily swallowed up by the
gray of the mist.
But this time there was no echoing splash, as a hurtling body struck
the water, nor tense spoken word of congratulation following--nothing.
For ten seconds, which is long under the circumstances, not a word is
spoken; only the metallic click of opened locks, as they spring home,
breaks the steady purr of the wind; then:
"Safe from me when they come like that," admits Sandford, "unless I
have a ten-foot pole, and they happen to run into it."
"And from me," I echo.
"Lord, how they come! They just simply materialize before your eyes,
like an impression by flash-light; and then--vanish."
"Yes."
"Seems as though they'd take fire, like meteorites, from the
friction."
"I'm looking for the smoke, myself--_Down!_ Mark your left!"
_Pat!_ _pat!_ _pat!_ Swifter than spoken words, swift as the strokes
of an electric fan, the wings beat the air. _Swish-h-h!_ long-drawn
out, _crescendo_, yet _crescendo_ as, razor-keen, irresistible, those
same invisible wings cut it through and through; while, answering the
primitive challenge, responding to the stimulus of the game, the hot
tingle of excitement speeds up and down our spines. Nearer, nearer,
mounting, perpendicular--
The third battalion of that seemingly inexhaustible army has come and
gone; and, mechanically, we are thrusting fresh shells into the
faintly smoking gun-barrels.
"Got mine that time, both of them." No repression, nor polite
self-abnegation from Sandford this time; just plain, frank exultation
and pride of achievement. "Led 'em a yard--two, maybe; but I got 'em
clean. Did you see?"
"Yes, good work," I echo in the formula.
"Canvas-backs, every one; nothing but canvas-backs." Again the old
marvel, the old palliation that makes the seemingly unequal game fair.
"But, Lord, how they do go; how anything alive can go so--and be
stopped!"
"Mark to windward! Straight ahead! _Down!_"