A PECULIAR PEOPLE 11 



has proved that some at least return to the same 

 rookeries year after year to breed; and here we are 

 out of our depth at once when we think of the 

 mysterious nostalgia that brings these flightless 

 birds back to their cradle over hundreds of miles of 

 trackless sea. When they get agoing on the ice 

 they toddle hurriedly, one hundred and thirty steps 

 per minute, six inches at a step, two-thirds of a mile 

 per hour. " In the still air their little wheezy respir- 

 ation could be heard distinctly, and they seemed 

 to be somewhat out of breath." Every now and 

 then they suddenly flop forwards on their breasts 

 and take to tobogganing at the same rate as before, 

 using their legs as propellers. By the end of the 

 month the rookery at Cape Adare was crammed 

 with some three-quarters of a million birds. 



The hens take possession of the old stone-nests 

 or scoop out new hollows in the ground, and wait 

 sometimes rather forlornly for proposals. A cock, 

 struggling against the drowsiness engendered by the 

 long journey, rouses himself to action, and makes 

 as if to place an imaginary stone at the hen's feet, 

 "a most obvious piece of dumb show." But the 

 hen often answers never a word, and it requires a 

 duel between rival cocks to arouse her interest. 

 The combatants lean their breasts against one 

 another and rain in blows with their flippers. In 

 many cases blood is drawn, but Dr. Levick never 

 saw a fatal encounter. During the first days of 

 wedded life the cock has continually to make good 

 his claim by driving off interlopers, but after the 



