“About thirty—passing over behind us—fairly low, kill them?” demanded the boy impatiently. “They’re you treacherous son-of-a-gun! Call! Gloo-uck! Gloo-uck! Gloo! Gloo! Gloo-uck!—By jingo, they’re turning! We’ve turned them, Sis! They’re coming. Look out, now—” Overhead came the wild geese again, answering the wildly excited invitation of their tethered comrades below to alight and join the alluring banquet. Suddenly in front of the blind the air was filled with great grey-and-black-and-white creatures balanced on w…
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