THE LESSON OF THE WAVE 279 



very life he cries aloud, the gull-cry which his 

 ancestors of long ago have handed down to him. 

 At night he seeks the shore and tucks his bill 

 into his plumage; and all because of something 

 within him, compelling him to do these things. 



But far from being an automaton, his bright 

 eye and full-rounded head presage higher things. 

 Occasionally his mind breaks through the mist of 

 instinct and reaches upward to higher activity. 



As with the other wild kindred of the ocean, 

 food was the chief object of the day's search. 

 Fish were delicious, but were not always to be 

 had ; crabs were a treat indeed, when caught una- 

 wares, but for mile after mile along the coast 

 were hosts of mussels and clams, sweet and 

 lucious, but incased in an armour of shell, through 

 which there was no penetrating. However swift 

 a dash was made upon one of these, always the 

 clam closed a little quicker, sending a derisive 

 shower of drops over the head of the gull. 



Once, after a week of rough weather, the storm 

 gods brought their battling to a climax. Great 

 green walls of foaming water crashed upon the 

 rocks, rending huge boulders and sucking them 

 down into the black depths. Over and through the 

 spray dashed the gull, answering the wind's howl 

 shriek for shriek, poising over the fearful bat- 

 tlefield of sea and shore. 



A wave mightier than all hung and curved, and 

 a myriad shell-fish were torn from their sheltered 



