192 THE WHISTLER'S DEATH-KNELL. 



denly a sharp clear whistle, that awoke the 

 echoes far and near, thoroughly roused me, and 

 sent all other thoughts to the rout. As I could 

 see nothing, I deemed it expedient to remain 

 quiet. Cocking my rifle, I lay on the grass, and 

 waited patiently for a repetition of the perform- 

 ance. I had not long to tax my patience : again 

 came the same sound, then others joined in the 

 refrain, until the place, instead of being steeped 

 in silence, resembled the gallery of a theatre on 

 boxing-night. 



I very soon spied one of the performers, seated 

 on the top of a large rock ; its position was that 

 of a dog when begging. With his forefeet he was 

 busy cleaning his whiskers, smoothing his fur, 

 and clearly going in for a somewhat elaborate 

 toilet : perhaps he was going a wooing, or to a 

 morning concert, or for a constitutional, or a 

 lounge on the ' Marmot's mile ; ' but whatever his 

 intentions were, I regret to say they were frus- 

 trated. Solely in the cause of science I had to 

 stop him ; resting my rifle on a flat rock, as I lay 

 on the ground, I fired, and the sharp crack, as it 

 rang amid the rocks, was the whistler's death-knell. 



Rapidly reloading, I scampered off to secure my 

 prize. I am afraid there was not much pity felt 

 delight at getting a new animal was uppermost. 



