THE PEREGRINE FALCON 
bait him. Good sport, that, to stretch their 
wings of a cold morning. Cudog swooped 
upwards, flicked him with an impudent wing 
and straddled the transept gable, hooting 
derisively. Up came another, eager to outvie 
his leader, sidled within an inch of him, daring 
him to strike. A third soared up and dropped 
a rotting acorn husk upon him. Still lolar 
did not stir, only his closed eyes opened ever 
so slightly. They came about him like bees, 
full-fed, scornful, flinging their noisy insults at 
him those whom formerly he had despised. 
One buffeted him, and he drooped sideways 
limply. The whole mob jeered with glee. 
They were getting their own back now. From 
the gable, Cudog, the noisiest of the band, 
swooped down, and the rest looked on de- 
lightedly, applauding each new jibe. As 
through a red mist, lolar saw the mocker glide 
to and fro before him. All the world was 
dizzy with light and noise. The roofs were 
incarnadined with sunshine, red as blood : the 
light glancing from the daw's bright wings 
made them glisten. Far down below in the 
church the blare of the organ answered the 
pealing of the bells : 
" Gloria in excelsis Deo ; Et in terra pax, 
hominibus bonas voluntatis >: 
The clamour of the daws sounded like mocking 
