The sheets were eased off, the long boom of the graceful sliding-gunter (a kind of latteen) sail, stretched far over the gun-wale of the boat, which slipped along easily and rapidly through the water, the rolling waves heaving up her stern, and sending her forward with a gentle impulse. We were opening the broad mouth of the Canning, when Meliboeus pointed out two other pelicans fishing in-shore on the lee-bow. Gently we edged away towards them; Meliboeus standing before the mast with his double-barrel ready, and motioning to me how to steer, as the main-sail hid the birds from my view. They perceived us, and began to swim along shore at a rapid rate; the water was shoaling fast, and we greatly feared they would escape, but still we held on. The majestic birds rose slowly from the water, one following the other, and made towards the Canning. "I'll let fly at them" cried Meliboeus, in an intense whisper, "luff up! -- hard-a-lee!" The helm was jammed down, and the sheet hauled in; the boat luffed into the wind, and became stationary, only bobbing upon the waves, whilst her sails shivered and rattled in the breeze. Meliboeus fired -- and the hindmost bird declined gradually towards the water; its long wings became fixed and motionless at their widest stretch, and slowly it sank down upon its heaving death-bed. Loud shouted the sportsman; and momentary envy filled the heart of him who steered. Away goes the boat before the freshening breeze, and soon it dashes past the body of the pelican, which is seized by the ready Meliboeus, and with great difficulty hauled on board. A shot had penetrated to its brain and killed it instantaneously. The wind up the Canning was nearly abeam, and we dashed through the deep and narrow passage called Hell's Gates, and held on till we came to the foot of a steep and rounded hill, Mount Henry. The river here turns at right angles, sweeping round the base of the hill, and leaving a broad and deep bay called Bull's Creek, to the southward. This is a famous spot for ducks and swans, and many a pleasant bivouac have I formed near it, waiting for early morn when the birds are busy feeding. As we rounded Mount Henry, we observed a large slate-coloured bird lazily flying across the river ahead of us. The Canning is here about four hundred yards broad, widening occasionally to a quarter of a mile. The wind was now right aft, and we soon came upon the line of the bird, which appeared to be a crested crane. The boom was topped-up in a moment, the jib-sheet let fly, and the boat's nose ran crashing through the sedges which in this part fringed the bank. The crane had alighted on the very summit of a straight and lofty tree, and there she sat, unconscious of the danger at hand.