Part 84 (1/2)

”Yellow-hammers,” said Bevis, turning to his journal again; ”what are yellow-hammers?”

”Unknown birds,” said Mark. ”We don't know half the birds--n.o.body has ever put any name to them, n.o.body has ever seen them: call them, let's see--gold-dust birds--”

”And greenfinches?”

”Ky-wee--Ky-wee,” said Mark, imitating the greenfinches' call.

”That will do capital--Ky-wees,” said Bevis.

”There's a horse-matcher here,” said Mark. The horse-matcher is the bold hedge-hawk or butcher bird. ”The one that sticks the humble-bees on the thorns.”

”Bee-stickers--no, bee-killers: that's down,” said Bevis. Besides which he wrote down nettle-creepers (white-throats), goldfinch, magpie, chaffinch, tree-climber, kestrel-hawk, linnets, starlings, parrots, and parrakeets. ”I shall get up early to-morrow morning,” he said. ”I'll load the matchlock to-night, I want to shoot a heron.”

He loaded the matchlock with ball, and soon afterwards they let the curtain down at the door, and went to bed, Bevis repeating ”Three o'clock, three o'clock, three o'clock,” at first aloud and then to himself, so as to set the clock of his mind to wake him at that hour.

Not long after they were asleep, Pan as usual went out for his ramble.

Bevis's clock duly woke him about three, and lifting his head he could see the light through the c.h.i.n.ks of the curtain, but he was half inclined to go to sleep again, and stayed another quarter of an hour.

Then he resolutely bent himself to conquer sleep, slipped off the bed, and put on his boots quietly, not to wake Mark. Taking the matchlock, he went out and found that it was light, the light of the moon mingling with the dawn, but it was misty. A dry vapour, which left no dew, filled the wood so that at a short distance the path seemed to go into and lose itself in the mist.

Bevis went all round the island, following the path they had made. On the Serendib side he neither saw nor heard anything, but as he came back up the other sh.o.r.e, a lark began to sing far away on the mainland, and afterwards he heard the querulous cry of a peewit. He walked very cautiously, for this was the most likely side to find a heron, but whether they heard his approach or saw him, for they can see almost as far as a man when standing, by lifting their long necks, he did not find any. When he reached the spot where the ”blaze” began that led to Kangaroo Hill, he fancied he saw something move in the water a long way off through the mist.

He stopped behind a bush and watched, and in a minute he was sure it was something, perhaps a cluck. He set up the rest, blew the match, opened the lid of the pan, knelt down and looked along the barrel till he had got it in a line with the object. If the gun had been loaded with shot he would have fired at once, for though indistinct through the vapour he thought it was within range, but as he had ball, he wanted to see if it would come nearer, as he knew he could not depend on a bullet over thirty yards. Intent on the object, which seemed to be swimming, he began to be curious to know what it was, for it had now come a little closer, and he could see it was not a duck, for it had no neck; it was too big for a rat: it must be the creature that visited the island and took their food--the idea of shooting this animal and surprising Mark with it delighted him.

He aimed along the barrel, and got the sight exactly on the creature, then he thought he would let it get a few yards closer, then he depressed the muzzle just a trifle, remembering that it was coming towards him, and if he did not aim somewhat in front the ball would go over.

Now it was near enough he was sure--he aimed steadily, and his finger began to draw the match down when he caught sight of the creature's eye.

It was Pan.

”Pan!” said Bevis. He got up, and the spaniel swam steadily towards him.

”Where have you been, sir?” he said sternly. Pan crouched at his feet, not even shaking himself first. ”You rascal--where have you been?”

Bevis was inclined to thrash him, he was so angry at the mistake he had almost made, angry with the dog because he had almost shot him. But Pan crouched so close to the ground under his very feet that he did not strike him.

”It was you who frightened the herons,” he said. Pan instantly recognised the change in the tone of his voice, and sprang up, jumped round, barked, and then shook the water from his s.h.a.ggy coat. It was no use evidently now to think of shooting a heron, the spaniel had alarmed them and Bevis returned to the hut. He woke Mark, and told him.

”That's why he's so lazy in the morning,” said Mark. ”Don't you recollect? He sleeps all the morning.”

”And won't eat anything.”

”I believe he's been home,” said Mark. ”Very likely Polly throws the bones out still by his house.”

”That's it: you old glutton!” said Bevis.

Pan jumped on the bed, licked Mark, then jumped on Bevis's knees, leaving the marks of his wet paws, to which the sand had adhered, then he barked and wagged his tail as much as to say, ”Am I not clever?”

”O! yes,” said Mark, ”you're very knowing, but you won't do that again.”

”No, that you won't, sir,” said Bevis. ”You'll be tied up to-night.”