From the moment that Lavender had come to the place, Johnny Eyre made him his special companion.  He had a great respect for a man who could shoot anything anywhere; and when he and Lavender came back together from a cruise, there was no use saying which had actually done the brilliant deeds the evidence of which was carried ashore.  But Lavender, oddly enough, knew little about sailing, and Johnny was pleased to assume the airs of an instructor on this point; his only difficulty being that his pupil had more than the ordinary hardihood of an ignoramus, and was rather inclined to do reckless things even after he had sufficient skill to know that they were dangerous.

Lavender got into the small boat, taking his canvas with him, but leaving his easel in the fishing-smack.  He pulled himself and Johnny Eyre ashore:  they scrambled up the rocks and into the road, and then they went into the small white cottage in which Lavender lived.  The picture was, for greater safety, left in Lavender’s bed-room, which already contained about a dozen canvases with sketches in various stages on them.  Then he went out to his friend again.

“I’ve had a long day to-day, Johnny.  I wish you’d go out with me:  the excitement of a squall would clear one’s brain, I fancy.”

“Oh, I’ll go out if you like,” Eyre said, “but I shall take very good care to run in before the squall comes, if there’s any about.  I don’t think there will be, after all.  I fancied I saw a flash of lightning about half an hour ago down in the south, but nothing has come of it.  There are some curlew about, and the guillemots are in thousands.  You don’t seem to care about shooting guillemots, Lavender.”

“Well, you see, potting a bird that is sitting on the water—­” said Lavender with a shrug.

“Oh, it isn’t as easy as you might imagine.  Of course you could kill them if you liked, but everybody ain’t such a swell as you are with a gun; and mind you, it’s uncommonly awkward to catch the right moment for firing, when the bird goes bobbing up and down on the waves, disappearing altogether every second second.  I think it’s very good fun myself.  It is very exciting when you don’t know the moment the bird will dive, and whether you can afford to go any nearer.  And as for shooting them on the water, you have to do that, for when do you get a chance of shooting them flying?”

“I don’t see much necessity for shooting them at any time,” said Lavender as he and Eyre went down to the shore again, “but I am glad to see you get some amusement out of it.  Have you got cartridges with you?  Is your gun in the boat?”

“Yes.  Come along.  We’ll have a run out, any how.”