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 cypress swamps to the salt marshes of the coast where they spent the forenoon feeding; but because the ibises were not game birds he had hitherto taken little interest in them and had never made special note of the precise time of their coming. They were at least half an hour earlier than he had expected, but, as it happened, this mattered little, since he had made his preparations the night before.

With practiced eye he measured the height of the approaching flock, then darted into the house. In a half-minute he was out again, carrying not his shotgun but the high-powered rifle which he had placed, loaded and ready, just inside his door. Careful to keep himself out of sight, he crouched at the corner of the house, awaiting the moment which would offer him the best chance—the moment when the great ibis leading the oncoming host would be almost directly over him.

At best it was a question of luck. To hit his moving target at that height with a single bullet was a feat which even Red Cam, one of the best shots in the Low Country, could not perform unless fortune stood his friend. But Lady Luck, as he was fond of calling her, had often befriended Cam both in the woods and elsewhere, and he risked nothing by again invoking her aid. A wry grin twisted his florid, sullen face as he thought of what a tri-