364 Cape Pigeons and Whale Birds 



of slumber taken., say, by sea-birds on the wing, or 

 riding easily the surface of gale-tormented billows, 

 by the sweet and restful name of sleep. 



Morning broke coldly and drearily. The low- 

 hanging sky was full of snow, the moaning of the wind 

 presaged storm, and the rocks bared their fangs like 

 black icebergs. But in the tiny crevice, open to the 

 heaven above, though shielded from the direct blast 

 of the bitter wind, the two wee birds nestled side by 

 side, cosy, content and warm. The beautiful garments 

 of feathers and down wherewith Infinite Thought had 

 clothed them were impervious to outer cold and wet, 

 so long as fuel for the hot little body was forthcoming 

 in sufficient quantity. And they had each other, a 

 delightful companionship wherein every desire, every 

 intention coincided, not one jarring note or cranny 

 for unhappiness to creep in and kill peace. So since 

 there was no need as yet for active search for food, 

 they sat gently communing, in tinkling notes quite 

 unlike their shrill cries at sea, and frequently caressing 

 one another with their beaks with a tender smoothing 

 motion. 



Meanwhile outside, the tremendous elemental or- 

 chestra tuned up, until about noon the awful concert 

 began. The sea, outstripping the wind, as it often 

 does down in those latitudes, hurled itself mountain- 

 ously at those sullen rock-bases, sending sheets of 

 hissing spray hundreds of feet into the air, and uttering 

 a deep earthquake note more pervading than thunder. 

 Then the gale, angry, shrieking and searching, burst 

 upon the island, tearing the crests from the billows, 

 and drenching the whole area of land with briny spray. 

 And simultaneously the deep-keeled clouds, torn into 

 massy fragments by the frantic storm, cast forth 

 their burden of water, which, passing through the 



