A TORPEDO IN FEATHERS 153 



nest, well filled with large green eggs, which 

 he would devour at his ease after sucking the 

 blood of the brooding mother, the mink 

 swam on steadily towards the islet. The 

 worn greyrocks and fringing grass grew nearer, 

 and the details began to separate them- 

 selves to his fierce little eyes. Presently 

 he made out the black shape of the female 

 loon sitting on her nest and eyeing him. 

 That promised something interesting. The 

 blood leapt in his veins, and he raced forward 

 at redoubled speed, for the mink goes into 

 his frays with a rampant blood-lust that 

 makes him always formidable, even to 

 creatures of twice his weight. 



It was just at this moment that his alert 

 senses took note of a strange vague heaving 

 in the water beneath him, a sort of dull and 

 broad vibration. Swiftly he ducked his head, 

 to see if the whole lake-bottom was rising up 

 at him. But he had no time to see anything. 

 It was as if a red-hot iron was jabbed straight 

 upward through the tender back part of his 

 throat, and a swarm of stars exploded in his 

 brain. Then he knew nothing more. The 

 loon's steel-like bill had pierced to and pene- 

 trated the base of the skull, and with one con- 

 vulsive kick, the robber's body straightened 

 itself out upon the water. Shaking his head 



