Scarcely had I done so when a single goose came over quite as high as
the others and travelling "as though the black devil had kicked it," as
Retief said. This time I allowed the same space to compensate for the
object's increased speed and pressed.

Down it came like a stone, falling but a little way behind me with its
head knocked off.

"Baas, baas," whispered Hans, "still too far in front. Why aim at the
eye when you have the whole body?"

Again I nodded, and at the same time heaved a sigh of relief. At least
the match was still alive. Soon a large flight came over, mixed up with
mallard and widgeon. I took the right-hand angle bird, so that it could
not be supposed I had "browned the lot," as here in England they say of
one who fires at a covey and not at a particular partridge. Down he
came, shot straight through the breast. Then I knew that I had got my
nerve, and felt no more fear.

To cut a long story short, although two of them were extremely difficult
and high, one being, I should say, quite a hundred and twenty yards
above me, and the other by no means easy, I killed the next three birds
one after the other, and I verily believe could have killed a dozen more
without a miss, for now I was shooting as I had never shot before.

"Say, nephew Allan," asked Retief curiously in the pause between the
fifth and sixth shots, "why do your geese fall so differently to
Hernan's?"