No sooner were we again ensconced in our blind, than the exhilarating sport of the morning was renewed--sport such as only those who have tried it can appreciate--sport that makes the heart beat and the nerves tingle--sport that overweighs humanity and compels the remorseless slaughter of these beautiful birds. Flock after flock, seen at great distance, and watched in their approach through changing hopes and fears, or darting unexpectedly from over our heads and first noticed when rushing with extended wings down to our stools, presented their crowded ranks to our delighted gaze. From the very clouds, would come the shrill whistle of the yelper, or from the horizon, the long shriek of the willet, or nearer at hand would be heard the plaintive note of the gentle dowitcher; they appeared from all quarters, sailing low along the water or pitching directly down from out the sky. Towards evening the flight diminished, and when the horn announced that supper was ready, the different parties met once more at the house to compare notes and relate adventures. All had met with excellent success, but our stand carried off the palm. “Bill,” commenced some unhappy person, after we had left the close, hot dining-room, “why do you not enlarge your house?” “Bill is waiting for another wreck,” was the volunteer response; “the whole coast is fed, clothed, and sheltered by the wrecks. The house is built from the remnants of unfortunate ships, as you perceive by the name-boards of the Arion, Pilgrim, Samuel Willets, J. Harthorn, and Johanna, that form so conspicuous a part of the front under the porch. When a vessel is driven ashore, and the crew and passengers who are not quite dead are disposed of by the aid of a stone in the corner of a handkerchief, which makes an unsuspicious bruise, the prize is fought for by the natives, and not only the cargo, but the very ribs and planks of the vessel appropriated.” “Now that’s not fair,” replied Bill, aroused; “no man, except my father-in-law, has done more to save drowning men than I have. I tell you it’s an awful sight to see the poor creatures clinging to the rigging and bowsprit, to see them washed off before your eyes, sometimes close to you, without your being able to help them, and their dead bodies thrown up by the waves on the sand. You don’t feel like stealing or murder at such times; and besides, I never knew a dead man come ashore that had anything in his pockets.” A peal of laughter greeted this naïve remark, together with the ready response: “Bill, you were too late; some Barnegat pirate had been before you.”