Strange indeed are the sensations evoked by that silent watch before day-dawn, in expectation of what truly appears incredible! Buried virtually in a desert of sand the fowler has nothing in sight beyond the dark dunes and a star-spangled sky overhead. For his hide is cunningly hidden in a slight depression with a hanging buttress on two sides. [Illustration: WILD-GEESE ALIGHTING ON THE SAND-HILLS] Several hundred yards away, concealed under stunted pines, stand our horses, while the men cower round a small fire, for we have had a biting cold two-hours' ride, and freezing to boot. Half-a-mile away on the other side--the east--begins the marisma, though hidden from view by the waves of rolling sand that intervene. Now a faint glint of light gleams on the tin decoys and foretells the coming dawn. Five more minutes elapse, and then ... that low deep-toned anserine call-note, instinct with concentrated caution--"Gagga, gagga, gagga, gagga"--sets pulses and nerves on fuller stretch. This pack proves to be but an advance-guard; for this is one of those thrice-blessed mornings for which we pray! The geese come in thick and fast in successive bands of six or eight to a score, and all beautifully timed, with exactly the correct interval between. The fowler is a craftsman, a master of his art, and, moreover, he is all alone. Hence he can to-day await the psychological moment with patience and absolute confidence. Rarely in such circumstances is trigger touched in vain; not seldom has the second gun been brought into action with good, thrice with double effect. No simple achievement is this, when fowl vanish swift and ghost-like into space; for, remember, guns must be exchanged with due deliberateness else shifting sand in an instant fills the breech and clogs the actions. Thrice has the double _carambola_ been brought off, and now comes the prettiest shot of all--five geese swing past, head up for the decoys, and pass full broadside at deadliest range; they are barely twenty yards away. In all but simultaneous pairs fall four of their company on the sand--all four stone dead; and but a single survivor wings away to bear news of the catastrophe to his fellows in the marisma! It is 8 A.M., and the tin decoys are now entirely replaced by geese of flesh and feather, with the fatal result that each successive pack now enters with fullest confidence, so that by doubles and trebles the score mounts fast during the fleeting minutes that yet remain. Before nine o'clock the flight has ceased. It only remains to gather those birds which have fallen afar--and which have been marked by the keepers from their points of vantage--and to follow by their spoor on the sand such winged geese as may have departed on foot. Some of these will be overtaken, those that have concealed themselves in the nearest rush-beds; but should any have passed on and gained the stronghold of the marisma, they are lost.