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Rh Yonder is a flock of wild pigeons. We might take a shy at them with our clubs. Come on, as quietly as you can, and when I whistle let drive."

They crept forward side by side, to the spot the Yankee tar had pointed out. When within fifty feet of the birds Striker uttered a low whistle, at the same time letting his club whiz through the air. Both sticks flew true to the mark, and a tremendous fluttering followed. One of the pigeons was knocked dead and three others injured. Of the three, two were readily caught; the third got away among the trees.

"Three birds; not half so bad," cried Striker. The prizes were slung on a string over Larry's back, and on they went again.

Evening found the pair down at the seashore. They had skirted one half of the island without seeing the first sign of a human being. They were utterly worn out, and were only too glad to take it easy, kindle a fire, and cook the fish and the pigeons. The latter proved of rather a rank flavor, judged by the flesh of those eaten at home, yet neither complained.

"I'll have to be careful of my matches," observed Striker, as they proceeded to make themselves