142 



THE BIRDS OP IONA AND MULL. 



of black necks swimming away to windward. A few are within 

 reach, and piff, puff! shoot 'em down is the word no quarter 

 given to them now. 



Lastly, we may visit one of the caves, as the swell of the 

 Atlantic has sunk into a calm slumber, and will allow us to 

 venture into it without danger to the boat. At the first alarm 

 a string of birds pours forth, almost into our faces ; still many 

 remain sitting on the high shelters, even though we enter the 

 cave and re-fire repeatedly, creating a most dreadful din and 

 bringing down splinters of the rock from the lofty vaulted roof. 



