was so angry it was very red. He ran forward 
shouting at Hardheart and shaking his fist at 
him. The big gull merely flew up on the rock 
where the seal had slept that June day, and 
screamed back at the warden. If he had had a 
fist I suspect he would have shaken it at the 
man. 
Now Mark Thaw was sure the time had come 
when the neighborhood must be rid of Hard- 
heart. So he climbed into his boat and went 
to Matinicus. He walked straight up the hill 
to his house and got his shotgun. He put a 
cartridge in each barrel and started down to the 
wharf. Just then the clear, beautiful notes of 
the hermit thrush rang out again and Mark 
stopped to listen. In spite of himself he smiled. 
Then he thought of the poor little baby gull dead 
out there on the bird island and his face grew hard 
once more. 
“You can’t stop me this time,” he said, and 
went on. All the rest of the day he sat on a box 
in front of the fish-shed and waited. 
“What are you going to shoot?” asked a 
lobsterman who came by. 
13 
