288 THE ‘BIRD WATCHER 
a ridge, which it almost covered. The chick made 
several efforts to scd¥e this mauvais pas, failed as many 
times, but at last, with manifest danger to its poor 
little life, got up it, and stood by this bird, on the 
tiny ridge. The latter immediately stood up also, and 
bent over it, jode/-ing, and cossetting it with its beak. 
Here, then, it seemed evident, was one of the parents. 
But now there appeared, pressing forward amongst 
others, on that part of the cliff where the chick had 
been, an eye-marked bird who seemed to be much 
excited. She made her way along to near the place 
from which the chick had scrambled up, and, as one 
may say, called it down to her, though I| heard no cry, 
for it followed her back along that fearfully steep and 
dangerous place, having now always to climb down 
instead of up, until, at last, it was back on the ledge 
where it had, at first, been sitting, and which, com- 
pared to where it had strayed to, looked almost safe. 
Could I give all the details of this fearful journey, 
it would make interesting reading, but I sat in rain 
and wind, and my hands were so numbed with cold 
that I found it difficult to use the glasses, and quite 
impossible to take notes. All that I can say now— 
this same evening—is that once, in getting down to 
its mother, who waited for it at different stages, it did 
actually fall and roll head over heels down the rock. 
I thought all was over, but it recovered itself on 
a tiny projection, seeming none the worse, and, shortly 
after, arrived with its mother on the ledge. Here 
there were some three or four more birds, and the 
