cliffs and on one of these he saw a black spot. 
He took out his field-glasses to examine it. 
Cormorants often roost there, but he soon 
knew the black spot was not one of those long- 
necked birds, for he saw it was a raven. “It 
is the work of that black fellow,’ he mut- 
tered, and put his glasses into his pocket. But 
Mark soon learned that he was wrong. 
He had ascended a little rise and had just 
reached a point where he could look down on the 
other side, when he was horrified to see Hard- 
heart in the act of pecking a baby gull to death. 
The little thing could hardly walk, but it did 
its best to get away, balancing its unsteady steps 
with tiny, quivering wings and giving small 
plaintive squeaks for help. Hardheart walked 
along behind, constantly striking at its head. 
When it was quite dead he picked it up and 
threw it down three or four times. Then he 
raised his head and screamed over and. over 
again. He seemed to feel that he had done a 
wonderfully fine thing and wanted everyone to 
know about it. 
I am glad no one saw Mark’s face then, for he 
12 
