The Misty Moorland. 91 



a rush of grey wings, and a rockdove flies hastily up 

 the hollow to the open moor. 



The sound startles a ring-ouzel from his feast among 

 the berries of a rowan, whose roots seem anchored 

 in the living rock. His loud ' Tack, tack ' of alarm is 

 answered by a comrade, and the two wary birds fly off 

 and settle farther on, their white gorgets standing out 

 clearly against the dark heather. This is their native 

 heath. Under the tall plants that fringe the hollow 

 their nest was built except for its situation, like that 

 of the blackbird ; and. not even an expert can distin- 

 guish with certainty the eggs of the two species. 



The outcry of the ouzels has disturbed a wheatear, 

 who with a flicker of his white tail alights on the top 

 of a heap of ore just visible among the bracken. 



A sober-clad meadow pipit rises, too, with feeble 

 note. Her call is answered by a pair of stone-chats, 

 who, perched on the top of a furze bush, keep up for 

 some minutes an uneasy chorus of ' Chat, chat ' of 

 wonder at this invasion of their haunt. The stone- 

 chat is a smart little fellow, with his black head, his 

 neat white collar, and his ruddy breast. Few birds 

 are more clever in concealing their nests, and although 

 by no means rare, the eggs are not easily discovered. 

 The birds move away. The sounds grow fainter, and 

 then cease. Once more there is silence in the deserted 

 hollow. 



These workings have long been abandoned. This 

 part of the moor is far from the regular mining 



