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"You gotta take a chance. I took one." Billy urged the punt forward across the creek to where the grinning and highly delighted Maurice waited. Mr Greyquill shrugged his shoulders. It was a sure hand that raised the old gun, a sure eye that glanced along its brown barrels. At the first loud report of the black powder the leader of the flock crumpled up and the second in command drifted sidewise from the flock. The left barrel spoke and a third duck twisted from the remainder of the flock, to fall with a splash into the water..
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Conrad
Hinter put his hand in his coat pocket and drew out an ivory dog-whistle. "Would you like to know them, Billy?" he asked, his keen eyes on the boy's face. "The villain!" muttered the Admiral. "Walter Watland, sir," panted Fatty, glimpsing the light in the nick of time. The dark moonlit hours thus passed, and the Aurora followed the stranger, but at a distance that was out of cannon reach..
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