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 



