waited till a patch of mud was exposed by the tide, when it was soon covered with hungry widgeon and geese. The numbers were extraordinary; in fact, the flocks were as a rule far too large to approach closely, because they covered such a wide area of water that the outside ducks saw the sides of the punt, before we had got near enough to the centre. By day¬ light we rarely got near enough to the packs of widgeon to make a heavy shot, but just as it got dark in the evening, and just before daybreak, we generally managed to get within sixty yards, which was about the most deadly distance with this gun. Then if all went well one might kill forty or fifty or more at a shot. As soon as the gun was fired we sat up in the punt, and sculled to where they lay in the water, some dead, others only winged, which we had to shoot with a small gun. It was astonishing how quickly these cripples disappeared in all directions among the mud- banks and the channels which intersected them. One had to be very careful, when the tide was falling and darkness coming on, not to get aground on the mud, which might entail remaining there for four or five hours till the tide rose high enough to float the punt again.
Pope knew the channels and passages in the various mud banks so well from long experience that he would take no more risk than necessary, and though the expanse of ground was very large, we only got weather¬ bound on one or two occasions. A gunning punt lies so low in the water and is so bad a sea-boat that she is very easily swamped if the wind gets up enough to raise a sea in the deeper channels. In such cases we had to go ashore and take shelter on one of the islands till the water got smoother, or perhaps haul up the punt on the shore and walk home.
Punting is dangerous work unless one is very careful, and it is best carried on from the shelter of a yacht or sailing-boat large enough to board when bad weather sets in. One winter w r e hired a large fishing-boat and went for a cruise down the coast outside the Mer de Morbihan, but we found no other place where the fowl were so numerous, and the waters so well suited to punting. On this occasion we had a French friend on board, the owner of the chateau where we lodged, who was anxious to see a little of the sport. One evening we were sitting on deck after dusk in a harbour that Pope had not explored, and did not know his way about in, as he did at Sarzeau. Widgeon were whistling and meowing in swarms all around the yacht, but it was too dark, as I thought, to do any good until the moon rose; and when our friend proposed to try a shot I told him I would not go. But Pope said they were so close that he could not lose the yacht and he determined to try a shot. So they started, and in a very few minutes I heard a shot 300 or 400 yards away. The tide was running pretty strongly and must have taken them down faster in the dark than they thought, for the sounds of rowing got fainter and fainter and soon I could hear them no longer. I hailed and fired several shots to let them know where the boat was, but, as they told me afterwards, the channel turned, and whenever they rowed towards us the boat stuck in the mud. Luckily, though dark, it was quite calm, and as I could do nothing to help them I left a sailor on watch with orders to keep a good light burning and went to bed. Six hours later when the moon rose they came back very cold and tired, without a single duck, having lost their way in the
