THE TALE OF A TEAL. 179 
head, just as if he wore green spectacles tied 
with gold ribbon, and in the patch of colour 
he carried on each wing, which not even the 
glow of the finest sunset could rival. Also, he 
was wonderful in another way—when he rose 
and flew. 
He sprang from the water like a rocket, just 
in time to cheat some scaly denizen of the lake 
of its expected supper upon him, and, once in 
the air, he fairly made you blink. 
I dare not guess his speed, but if you 
suggest eighty miles an hour as being pos- 
sible, no man could say that you were wrong. 
He was not alone. There were thousands 
of wild-fowl on that portion of the lake which 
was ‘open,’ or standing, disconsolate, on the 
ice. But none was flying; not one was on 
the wing. And, of course, he ought to have 
seen that, and taken the hint; but he did not. 
The hint came when he was about three 
hundred feet up over the water. It looked 
like a white line falling out of the leaden sky 
above him. He knew it, however, for a ger- 
falcon, largest and most dreaded of all the 
birds of prey of the north; and it wanted him. 
He fell, and he helped his descent with his 
wings. You could hear the pair of them from 
afar, fairly hissing through the air. Then the 
teal hit the water with a report like a pistol- 
