THE ISLE OF BIRDS 109 



antly into her burrow to feed the ravenous 

 and complaining chick. 



The skua was disgusted. Had he been 

 what he in some ways so much resembled, 

 namely, a goshawk or falcon, with a hawk's 

 deadly talons, the encounter would have had 

 a very different result. But his handsome 

 black feet were armed with nothing more 

 formidable than webs for swimming. His 

 only weapons were his hook-tipped beak and 

 his long, powerful, buffeting wings. Backed, 

 however, by his pluck and his audacity, which 

 were worthy of a better occupation, these 

 weapons were usually sufficient, and he was 

 not used to being baulked as these two serious 

 little householders had baulked him. With 

 a vicious yelp, he went swooping low along 

 the sentinel ranks of the puffins, followed by a 

 snapping of indignant beaks which crackled 

 along the lines as he went a curious, dry 

 sound, audible through the deep roar of the 

 surf and the high-pitched clamour of bird- 

 cries. Here and there a buffet of his wing, as it 

 dipped suddenly, would knock over one of 

 the grotesque but dauntless doorkeepers, 

 who would pick himself up, ruffle his feathers, 

 and waddle back to his post with outraged 

 solemnity. 



But revenge for his recent discomfiture 



