the moment, nor treasure them truly. He just enjoyed, completely, hearing them lie at the moment, unless, of course, something concerned with duty was involved. Last night there had been a fair amount of good lying after the grappa had been passed around, and the Colonel had enjoyed it.
There had been smoke in the room from the open charcoal fire; no, there were logs, he thought. Anyway a liar lies best when there is a little smoke or when the sun has set.
He had come close to lying twice himself, and had held it up, and merely exaggerated. I hope anyway, he thought.
Now here was the frozen lagoon to ruin everything. But it was not ruined.
A pair of pin-tails came, suddenly, from nowhere, slanting down fast in a dive no airplane ever made, and the Colonel heard their feathered trajectory and swung and killed the drake. He lay on the ice, hitting it as solid as a duck can hit ice, and, before he was down, the Colonel had killed his mate, who was climbing, long-necked and fast.
She fell alongside the drake.
So it is murder, the Colonel thought. And what isn’t nowadays? But, boy, you can still shoot.
Boy, hell, he thought. You beat-up old bastard. But look at them come now.
They were widgeon, and they came in a whisp that coagulated and then stretched to nothing. Then they coagulated
