The two eggs were laid on the floor of a beautiful little cave about three 

 feet high and the same width, and perhaps a couple of feet deep. There was 

 no attempt at a nest, but there were two or three bits of stick and many 

 whitened bones lying round the eggs, which were slightly incubated. The 

 female lay dead on a rock about twenty yards off, where she had fallen to 

 the keeper's gun some days before, when he had discovered the nest. She was 

 a beautiful bird, but all my efforts to get to her were fruitless. The keeper 

 assured me that the Peregrine had nested there every year since he came 

 there, and he had usually been able to secure both birds. This year, however, 

 when he shot the female, her mate had never reappeared in the vicinity. 





18 



