BIRDS OF ICELAND 9 



shifting again, but this time I stood with my gun 

 ready. Shortly, out came the bird again, and made, 

 very shakily, for a rock some twelve yards off. I gave 

 it all the law I dared, and fired just as it reached the 

 rock, and saw it stagger against the side of a hole and 

 fall in. Unfortunately the hole opened directly into a 

 long narrow sloping crevasse (if I may use the word of 

 lava rock) which appeared to go straight down to New 

 Zealand, or somewhere even warmer. 



We walked a good deal more, and each heard the 

 wren again, but got no sight of it. So we returned to 

 the manse where we were staying — I, at least, with 

 feelings of keen disappointment: I detest above all 

 things failing to gather any creature whose life I have 

 taken. My friends kindly insisted upon our intended 

 departure being put off for another day, so next 

 morning found us foraging the lava and birch tract 

 again. We walked much of yesterday's ground ' with- 

 out a whimper,' and then proceeded in a new direction. 

 I was rather ahead, and was looking for the nest of a 

 pair of Phalaropes beside a little tarn, as Dugmore had 

 never taken their eggs, when, fifty yards to my front, 

 amongst the lava and birch scrub, rang out the well- 

 known song. I went quietly back to Dugmore, and 

 together we advanced cautiously, taking opposite sides 

 of a lava ridge from which I judged the sound had 

 come. I heard Dugmore shoot, and had the pleasure 

 — at last — of handling an Iceland specimen of the 

 Northern Wren. 



All this excitement and fuss about a little bird will 



