lyO WILD SPORTS OF THE WEST. 



of these birds were congregated in a small circle, scream- 

 ing, and rising, and dipping over a dense mass of fry, 

 which appeared at times breaking the surface of the water, 

 while grebes and puffins of many varieties were perse- 

 cuting those unhappy sprats underneath. As we bore 

 down I fired at a few straggling puffins. Some were 

 missed, some disabled, but not a clean-killed bird ! 

 The great body of sea-fowl appeared so much engrossed 

 with their predatory pursuits, as to neither attend to the 

 reports of the gun, or notice the approach of the hooker, 

 until the boat's bolt-sprit seemed almost parting this 

 countless host of floating and flying plunderers. 



Bent on destruction, I waited until we cleared the ball, 

 and reached that happy distance when the charge should 

 open properly. Pattigo estimated the shot would, 

 moderately y produce a stone of feathers. I fired ; a 

 solitary gull dropped in the water, and half-a-dozen 

 wounded birds separated from the crowd, and went 

 screaming off to sea. The failure was a melancholy 

 one. I sank immeasurably in the estimation of the 

 crew as an artiste. Pattigo 's bag of feathers was but 

 an unrealised dream — while my kinsman muttered 

 something about the best single he ever possessed — and 

 I, to cover my disgrace, occupied myself with 

 reloading 



' I can't congratulate you on your gunnery," said 

 my cousin, *' although I must admit that it required some 

 ingenuity to avoid accidents among the crowd. But 

 give me the gun, — and here comes a victim," he con- 

 tinued, as a huge, grey gull, reckless of danger, wheeled 

 as they will do, round and round a wounded companion. 



" I would not be in his coat for half the hooker," 

 said Pattigo, in a stage whisper. 



