80 ICELAND. 



present your gun. Have him we must, for we depend 

 entirely for provisions in these wastes on what we shoot ; 

 and whimbrel, though stringy and tasteless, is not to be 

 despised when little else is to be got. 



Ah ! we have disturbed a covey of ptarmigans. They 

 looked like grey stones, crouching so unconcernedly on 

 the ground as we rode by. But the ptarmigan is sure 

 before long to give notice of his presence, for he is proud 

 of his voice, and one might pass within a few feet of the 

 bird without noticing him, but for his tell-tale call rio, 

 r io, r io which has given him his name in Iceland of 



Rjupr. 



We catch the zick-zack of the snipe in yon morass, 

 and the ceaseless melancholy pipe of the golden plover 

 sounds from every stony hill around the tarn. Just here 

 there is abundance of life ; a gun-shot beyond the top of 

 the rise you will not see or hear a bird. If you are 

 lucky, you will catch sight of the great snowy owl, like 

 a snow-ball, sailing by, uttering its solemn note. Its 

 haunts are somewhere among the unvisited, unknown 

 recesses of the vast Jokiills which close the view on the 

 south. 



Here, close to us, is a little snow bunting, sitting 

 wagging its tail and cheeping ; lucky bunting that you 

 are ! had the owl but seen you, you would not be 

 perched so unconcernedly there. How tame the little 

 being is, or rather how stupid ; you have only to steal 

 up softly whilst it is occupied cheeping, and you can 

 catch it in your hand. These rocks around us harbour 



