At Close Range 



Luckily I had a rifle, an accurate little twenty- 

 two, often carried as medicine for "vermin," and 

 I intended to kill the goshawk at the first chance. 

 He is the viking among birds, and as such has a 

 romantic interest ; but wherever he appears he is a 

 veritable pest, the most destructive of the hungry 

 hordes that come down from the North to play 

 havoc with our game. 



For a long time the goshawk hovered about, 

 sweeping on tireless wings high above the trees; 

 but though I was quiet enough to deceive any 

 bird or beast, he held warily aloof. Once he dis- 

 appeared, remaining so long away that I was 

 beginning to think he had wearied of the game of 

 patience, when I heard an eery call and saw him 

 wheeling over the road again. His absence be- 

 came clear a little later when he perched on a 

 blasted pine, far out of range, where he remained 

 watching for fifteen or twenty minutes, his only 

 motion being an occasional turning of the head. 

 That he was hungry and bound to have his own 

 was plain enough ; the puzzle was why he did not 

 come and get it, for it seemed highly improbable 

 that he would notice a motionless figure at that 

 distance. I think now that he was sailing high 

 over my head when I re-entered the trail; that 

 he knew where I was all the time, not because he 

 saw me on the log, but because he did not see me 



[217] 



