THE HAWKS' BREAKFAST 



or whatever he was — I could not, of course, speak the 

 language, and so never had the mystery explained — 

 soon took his departure, greatly to the relief of all 

 of us. I stretched myself out on the bare rock, and 

 despite the hardness of my bed and the possibility 

 of the unwelcome and unknown animal returning, 

 managed to sleep soundly till dawn. 



As soon as it was light the birds began to fly out. 

 I was ready for them with the camera, but their foes, 

 the hawks, were also ready, hovering in narrow circles 

 just above the mouth of the cave. They seemed to 

 be generally about fifteen feet from their prey when 

 they made a dash, yet the victim seldom got a third 

 of that distance before it was seized. Whilst I was 

 watching I counted over thirty swiftlets carried off. 

 Having had my rifle sent up with the provisions, I 

 tried if a shot would frighten the hawks, but found 

 that it produced very little effect. 



As soon as I had got my pictures I started down 

 to rejoin Brackenbury. I had been up and at work 

 for some time now with nothing to eat, and the vision 

 of breakfast at the camp seemed a very pleasant one ; 

 consequently, I was doubly grateful to my companion 

 when at a turn in the path I saw a couple of boys 

 sitting on a log waiting for me. Brackenbury had sent 

 breakfast half-way to meet me. Whilst enjoying the 

 meal my benefactor joined me, and one of the boys 

 endeavoured to explain to us how soft the wood of a 



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