THE ISLAND OF THE DEAD 



could not cope successfully with two fierce rdbihor- 

 cados; for one soared above her, resting, watching, 

 while the other darted and whirled to the attack. 

 They changed, now one black demon swooping down, 

 and then the other, in calculating, pitiless pursuit. 

 How glorious she was in poise and swerve and sweep! 

 For what seemed a long time neither rahihorcado 

 touched her. What distance she could have placed 

 between them but for that faithful mother instinct! 

 She kept circling, ever returning, drawn back toward 

 the sand by the magnet of love; and the powerful 

 wings seemed slowly to lose strength. Closer the 

 rabihorcados swooped and rose and swooped again, 

 till one of them, shooting down like a black flash, 

 struck her in the back. The white feathers flew 

 away on the wind. She swept up, appeared to pause 

 wearily and quiver, then disgorged her fish. It 

 glinted in the sunlight. The rahihorcado dropped in 

 easy, downward curve and caught it as it fell. 



So the struggle for existence continued till I 

 seemed to see all the world before me with its myriads 

 of wild creatures preying upon one another; the 

 spirit of nature, unquenchable as the fires of the 

 sun, continuing ceaseless and imperturbable in its 

 inscrutable design. 



As we rowed away I looked back. Sky of a dull 

 purple, like smoke with fire behind it, framed the 

 birds of power and prey in colors suitable to their 

 spirit. My ears were filled with the haunting sound 

 of the sea, the sad wash of the surf, the harmonious 

 and mournful music of the Island of the Dead. 



