AN AFTERNOON OFF. 93 
had, like a demon from a trap, bobbed up out 
of a mole-run almost into the sleeping flock ; 
and, knowing the reputation of weasels, the 
sentinels had given the alarm. 
Followed an interval of about ten minutes 
as the flock, led by one very fine old male, 
beat steadily seawards. 
Now, a sea-gull’s eyes are like our eyes 
plus a pair of good binoculars. Therefore 
there was nothing wonderful in the leader 
spotting a pleasure-steamer just leaving the 
pier two miles away. 
The wonder came in when he and his friends 
arrived above her a minute or two later, and 
proceeded to hang themselves up just as nearly 
over her stern flagstaff as possible, and, on 
absolutely still wings, keep there. 
Anon some one cast overboard a piece of 
bread. It was only a little piece, and in the 
boiling white wake of the vessel would have 
needed looking for on your hands and knees, so 
to speak. And the leader of the gulls was well 
up in the air—slightly higher than the funnel 
—but he sawit. He stood on his head and 
dropped some feet, recovered, dipped fraction- 
ally in the boil, and was up again, hurrying 
fast to catch up the steamer—but he had the 
piece of bread. 
Half-an-hour later saw the flock returning, 
