BIRDS OF THE SEA 465 



distant nesting station. They dropped straight 

 into the water and instantly dived. In a few 

 moments they reappeared, and at once took wing 

 across the hills from whence they came. The hour 

 was 4.30 p.m. Every day during the time that I 

 fished there, never deviating by more than five 

 minutes from the appointed time, the pair came, 

 collected their prey in exacdy the same manner, 

 and again took their course across the same 

 hills. 



In these Highland latitudes at mid-summer it 

 never grows really dark. After the sun sets be- 

 hind the rocky summits, the light is gradually 

 subdued ; the world grows more silent and peace- 

 ful, and the mountains seem to grow nearer and 

 to rest like gigantic shadows close at hand. Even 

 at midnight the colours of the flies on the angler's 

 cast can be distinguished, or the form of a Cur- 

 lew made out as it stands silhouetted against the 

 sky on a distant grassy mound. From the dim 

 crofts on the hillsides comes the monotonous " craik 

 — craik — craik " of the sleepless Landrail, and from 

 the wooded heights of the opposite shore one may 

 hear the faint cry of the fox or even of the wild cat, 

 a race now nearly exterminated. 



At this season wild Nature is never at rest. 

 In the owl-light a wandering Gull still screams in 

 the air, or the dark form of a Cormorant wings its 

 sinister way across the loch. As night's meridian 

 is reached and turned, a nameless change comes in 

 the atmosphere. The shadowy mountains draw 

 back and their features become more defined. A 

 new, wan light rests on the upper slopes and the 

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