TIGER'S TEETH 97 



and like drifting snowflakes a swirl of birds 

 floats on the air, uprising from the sea and 

 uttering gabbling cries of alarm when an 

 intruder passes near the lip of the Hole. 



The village historian told me the story 

 one rainy night in the Nightcrow Inn. 

 He was a great friend of mine, and 

 universally known as " Muggy " ; he had 

 been in most places on the earth, returning 

 eventually to his remembered village, happy 

 in the open air with his simple livelihood. 

 The returned wanderer did all kinds of 

 jobs in the hamlets round about, gathered 

 and sold watercress and mushrooms in their 

 seasons, arranged for the purchase of patent 

 manures by the farmers, representing many 

 firms, and was also " I be nothing if I be 

 not up to date, zur, do ee see ? " an agent 

 for fire insurance in the big town eight miles 

 away. For generations his family had lived 

 in the village; his grandfather had bought 

 the wreckage of H.M.S. Weasel, that went 

 on the rocks of the Hole over a century 



