Chapter XLIII
AT the landing, before the long low stone house by the side of the canal, there were ducks laid out on the ground in rows.
They were laid in groups that were never of the same number. There were a few platoons, no companies, and, the Colonel thought, I barely have a squad.
The head game-keeper was standing on the bank in his high boots, his short jacket and his pushed back old felt hat, and he looked critically at the number of ducks on the bow of the boat as they came alongshore.
“It was frozen-up at our post,” the Colonel said.
“I suspected so,” the head keeper said. “I’m sorry. It was supposed to be the best post.”
“Who was top gun?”
“The Barone killed forty-two. There was a little current there that kept it open for a while. You probably did not hear the shooting because it was against the wind.”
