64 Watching the Brant Grow Big. 



ing, growing bigger and bigger as he 

 skims the foamy, splattering waves without 

 quite touching them. I '11 let him alight. 

 There, now ! Right on the bar between me 

 and the decoys. How trim his outlines 

 are, and how gracefully he walks for one of 

 the goose family. Why do those bright 

 dark eyes fail to perceive me ? He is 

 young, as his wing coverts show by their 

 ashy tipped feathers, and knowing that 

 age is to be respected he puts confidence 

 in the old decoys, unwilling to believe 

 that I am terrible. He scoops up a bill- 

 ful of sand here and there where it looks 

 particularly tempting, and asks the decoys 

 something in a low voice. Now, I must 

 take him into the box, for other brant will 

 be coming. He jumps almost like a wood- 

 cock as I show him a great jack-in-a-box, 

 and Halloa ! Right barrel snapped ; left 

 one shot a little under as the wind slanted 

 him to one side. There he goes as fast 

 as ever he can, away, away, away. I 

 never saw that brant before in all my life 

 and never shall see him again. 



Out of the west horizon a corps of 



