A SPRING WEEK IN THE WEST HIGHLANDS. 871 



got half way, she flew off her eyrie, and sat upon a tree, 

 her white tail shining like the silver moon. We were all 

 watching her when* the other also flew off the nest and 

 settled near his mate. This did not look well for a shot 

 the hen evidently was not sitting. When we neared the 

 islet, they both flew out to meet us, uttering their shrill 

 scream. Sometimes they floated at an immense height, 

 and then, cleaving the air in their descent, flew round their 

 eyrie, beating with their wings, which made a hoarse 

 growling noise, like (forgive the comparison) the paddles 

 of a steam-boat at a distance on a calm day. 



Peter's great anxiety was to get me hid as quickly as 

 possible ; and a speedy job we made of it. I had hardly 

 time to notice the terror of some deer springing into the 

 water to paddle across to the mainland, like Eobinson 

 Crusoe's savages, before I was- ensconced under a heather 

 and bracken screen. A small aperture was made for my 

 gun-barrel, and from seven o'clock till one I was left alone 

 on the island. 



Meantime my companions rowed away to the far end of 

 the loch, and having found a wild-duck's nest full of fresh 

 eggs, and kindled a fire, they soon, with the addition of 

 our basket of provisions, turned out a most comfortable 

 breakfast. The excitement of the moment quite kept 

 down my hunger. Every time I heard an uproar among 

 the small black-headed gulls, I was sure the royal pair 

 were approaching ; and soon their shadow passed over my 

 ambush. They were generally swimming slowly, at a 

 great height, and seldom came near the nest tree. Once 



