in Captivity 151 



writing about sea and shore birds in captivity ; but 

 I'm not !] 



Then on the Wednesday away would go our 

 killing man, only to return at the completion of some 

 hours, with a distressed and rather vexed look on 

 his face. 



" Would you believe it, the brutes weren't there." 



Then on the Thursday, or perhaps that very same 

 afternoon, out we all went again ; of course without 

 a rifle, but with photographic cameras, luncheon 

 baskets, and plenty of puffing from our launch. 



And there are the seals on the very same rock. 

 Obstinate, contrary animals ! 



However, one day we really did come across 

 some when the rifle was in the boat. We had left 

 the launch, and were rowing in the punt amongst 

 a lot of rocks to visit an outlying island, when sud- 

 denly, " Sh-h ! — keep quiet, everybody." 



There, on a rock close to us, lay stretched, with 

 their backs our way, two huge seals — an old, fawn- 

 coloured one of about eight or nine feet long, and a 

 smaller darker one. The Slayer seized his rifle. 



Some one sneezed ! 



I know he wished the culprit under the boat 

 instead of in it, rocked in the bosom of the sea ! 

 Everybody tried to whisper different directions, and 

 everybody said " Sh-h ! " in turns. 



How we laughed afterwards ! 



We lost our heads and the seal his life, and then 

 we lost the seal. 



So, altogether, there was rather a muddle. 



