I have tried dawn fishing, and found it wanting. I have tried dawn hunting in the woods, after "partridges," and found it not all that Jonathan, in his buoyant enthusiasm, appears to think it. And so, when he grew eloquent regarding the delights of dawn hunting on the marshes, I was not easily fired. I even referred, though very considerately, to some of our previous experiences in affairs of this nature, and confessed a certain reluctance to experiment further along these lines.

"Well, you have had a run of hard luck," he admitted tolerantly, "but you\'ll find the plover-shooting different. I know you won\'t be sorry."

I do not mean to be narrow or prejudiced, and so I consented, though rather hesitatingly, to try one more dawn adventure.

We packed up our guns, ammunition, extra wraps, rubber boots, and alarm clock. These[Pg 172] five things are essential—nay, six are necessary to real content, and the sixth is a bottle of tar and sweet oil. But of that more anon.

Thus equipped, we went down to a tiny cottage on the shore. We reached the village at dusk, stopped at "the store" to buy bread and butter and fruit, then went on to the little white house that we knew would always be ready to receive us. It has served us as a hunting-lodge many times before, and has always treated us well.

There is something very pleasant about going back to a well-known place of this sort. It offers the joy of home and the joy of camping, the charm of strangeness and the charm of familiarity. We light the candles and look about. Ah, yes! There are the magazines we left last winter when we came down for the duck-shooting, there is the bottle of ink we got to fill our pens one stormy day last spring in the trout season, when the downpour quenched the zeal even of Jonathan. In the pantry are the jars of sugar and salt and cereals and tea and coffee and bacon; in the kitchen are the oil stoves ready to light; in the dining-room are the ashes of our last fire.[Pg 173]

Contentedly I set about making tea and arranging the supper-table, while Jonathan took a basket and pitcher and went off to a neighbor for eggs and milk. We made a fire on the hearth, toasted bread over the embers, and supped frugally but very cozily.

Afterwards came the setting of the alarm clock—a matter of critical importance.

"What hour shall it be?" inquired Jonathan, his finger on the regulator.

"Whenever you think best," I answered cheerfully.

Now, as we both understood, I had no real intention of being literally guided by what Jonathan thought best,—that would have been too rash,—but it opened negotiations pleasantly to say so.

Jonathan, trying to be obliging against his better judgment, suggested, "Well—six o\'clock?"

But I refused any such tremendous concession, knowing that I should have to bear the ignominy of it if the adventure proved unfortunate. "No, of course not. Six is much too late. Anybody can get up at six."

"Well, then," he brightened; "say five?"[Pg 174]

"Five," I meditated. "No, it\'s quite light at five. We ought to be out there at daylight, you said."

Jonathan visibly expanded. He realized that I was behaving very well. I thought so myself, and it made us both very amiable.

"Yes," he admitted, "we ought to be, of course. And it will take three quarters of an hour to drive out there. Add fifteen minutes to that for breakfast, and fifteen minutes to dress—would a quarter to four be too outrageous?"

"Oh, make it half-past three," I rejoined recklessly, in a burst of self-sacrifice.

At least I would not spoke our wheels by slothfulness. The clock was set accordingly, and I went to sleep enveloped in virtue as in a garment, the sound of the sea in my ears.

Br-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! What has happened? Oh, the alarm clock! It can\'t be more than twelve o\'clock. I hear the spit of a match, then "Half-past three," from Jonathan. "No!" I protest. "Yes," he persists, and though his voice is still veiled in sleep, I detect in it a firmness to which I foresee I shall[Pg 175] yield. My virtue of last night has faded completely, but his zeal is fast colors. I am ready to back out, but, dimly remembering my Spartan attitude of the night before, I don\'t dare. Thus are we enslaved by our virtues. I submit, with only one word of comment—"And we call this pleasure!" To which Jonathan wisely makes no response.

We groped our way downstairs, lighted another candle, and sleepily devoured some sandwiches and milk—a necessary but cheerless process, with all the coziness of the night before conspicuously left out. We heard the carriage being brought up outside, we snatched up our wraps,—sweaters, shawls, coats,—Jonathan picked up the valise with the hunting equipment, we blew out the candles, and went out into the chilly darkness. As our eyes became accustomed to the change, we perceived that the sky was not quite black, but gray, and that the stars were fewer than in the real night. We got in, tucked ourselves up snugly, and started off down the road stretching faintly before us. The horse\'s steps sounded very loud, and echoed curiously against the silent houses as we passed. As we[Pg 176] went on, the sky grew paler, here and there in the houses a candle gleamed, in the barnyards a lantern flashed—the farmer was astir. Yes, dawn was really coming.

After a few miles we turned off the main highway to take the rut road through the great marsh. The smell of the salt flats was about us, and the sound of the sea was growing more clear again. A big bird whirred off from the marsh close beside us. "Meadowlark," murmured Jonathan. Another little one, with silent, low flight, then more. "Sandpipers," he commented; "we don\'t want them." The patient horse plodded along, now in damp marsh soil, now in dry, deep sand, to the hitching-place by an old barn on the cliff.

As we pulled up, Jonathan took a little bottle out of his pocket and handed it to me. "Better put it on now," he said.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Tar and sweet oil—for the mosquitoes."

I smelled of it with suspicion. It was a dark, gummy liquid. "I think I prefer the mosquitoes."

"You do!" said Jonathan. "You\'ll think again pretty soon. Here, let me have it." He[Pg 177] had tied the horse and blanketed him, and now proceeded to smear himself w............