outermost pool, the morning was grey over the world, so that the tall
rushes, the still waters, the vague clouds, the thin mists lying
among the sand-heaps, seemed carved out of an enormous pearl. In a
little he came upon the herons, of whom there were a great number,
standing with lifted legs in the shallow water; and crouching down
behind a bank of rushes, looked to the priming of his gun, and bent
for a moment over his rosary to murmur: 'Patron Patrick, let me shoot
a heron; made into a pie it will support me for nearly four days, for
I no longer eat as in my youth. If you keep me from missing I will
say a rosary to you every night until the pie is eaten.' Then he lay
down, and, resting his gun upon a large stone, turned towards a heron
which stood upon a bank of smooth grass over a little stream that
flowed into the pool; for he feared to take the rheumatism by wading,
as he would have to do if he shot one of those which stood in the
water. But when he looked along the barrel the heron was gone, and,
to his wonder and terror, a man of infinitely great age and infirmity
stood in its place. He lowered the gun, and the heron stood there
with bent head and motionless feathers, as though it had slept from
the beginning of the world. He raised the gun, and no sooner did he
look along the iron than that enemy of all enchantment brought the
old man again before him, only to vanish when he lowered the gun for
the second time. He laid the gun down, and crossed himself three
times, and said a _Paternoster_ and an _Ave Maria_, and
muttered half aloud: 'Some enemy of God and of my patron is standing
upon the smooth place and fishing in the blessed water,' and then
aimed very carefully and slowly. He fired, and when the smoke had
gone saw an old man, huddled upon the grass and a long line of herons
flying with clamour towards the sea. He went round a bend of the
pool, and coming to the little stream looked down on a figure wrapped
in faded clothes of black and green of an ancient pattern and spotted