1 82 IN FLIGHT TIME 
' Have thee heard the stone-curlew lately, Tom ? ' I 
ask one of my friends. 
' Do ye mean that queer bird what hollers out so 
o' nights, an' skims along the ship-walk when the 
dims come on ? I've heerd un, and sin both on 'em 
'long with the young uns lots o' times since I sin ye 
up here. Why, they hed their nest out in that 'ere 
flinty faller-field.' 
' I told you they were nesting there.' 
' How did you know ? You ain't up here same as I 
be. They hed young uns in that field ; old Jack, our 
ship-dog, picked one on 'em up. Two on 'em with the 
old uns there was ; the bird warn't hurt, fur old Jack's 
middlin' tender-mouthed when he's on ship-ground. 
He's bin larrupped when he wus young for breakin' 
the skin o' the ship, an', bless ye, he don't do it now, 
cept rabbuts an' varmin. He grips them right through, 
I can tell ye. So thet outlandish-lookin' critter didn't 
hev a feather pulled out on it. It hed eyes like them 
yeller-eyed owls. I put un down arter lookin' at it, 
an' it could run most 'mazin'. If I'd ha' known where 
to find ye, I'd ha' kep it for ye. But 'twas best to 
let it go ; them 'ere queer old birds would holler at me 
o' nights when I come over the ship-walk if I didn't. 
They sounds wheesht like o' nights.' 
I tell him they will soon be gone, that their rest- 
