WILD LIFE ON THE WING 
laughter. Cudog swooped upwards yet again, 
and like a stone lolar dived down to meet 
him. The iron gin struck the jackdaw 
squarely across the wings. Then the frozen 
earth rushed up to meet lolar, and somersault- 
ing headlong he fell to the threshold of the 
sacristy door at the feet of Seumas Skerritt. 
VI 
He should have died, but death comes hardly 
to such as he, who for most of their lives have 
Fear and Hunger for their portion. Hence he 
struggled back to life in spite of frost-bitten 
feet, a bruised head, and a breast-keel pinched 
so sharp by famine that it seemed to be prick- 
ing through his feathers. That angel to whom 
is deputed the marking of the fall of the 
sparrow, and presumably of other birds, and 
whom Mr. Watts has painted for men's learn- 
ing, may well have shuddered anew and wept 
for lolar. But Seumas Skerritt had never heard 
of such an angel. 
He put his captive in a coop under the lean-to 
in his back-yard, a small dark place where the 
December sunshine could never penetrate. 
Thin fowls trespassed there to ransack the 
rotting cabbage stems and empty cans which 
cumbered it, and leaner cats made the nights 
70 
