ry of
hawking was at an end for him, the mystery had been unravelled, and
now there was nothing for him to do but to watch other birds and to
learn the art of hawking, for every flight would be different.

The sun had risen, filling the air with a calm, reposeful glow; the
woods were silent, the boughs hung lifeless and melancholy, every
leaf distinct at the end of its stem, weary of its life, "unable to
take any further interest in anything" Owen said, and the cavalcade
rode on in silence.

"A little too warm the day is, without sufficient zest in it," one of
the falconers remarked, for his hawk was flying lazily, only a few
yards above the ground, too idle to mount the sky, to get at pitch;
and as the bird passed him, Owen admired the thin body, and the
javelin-like head, and the soft silken wings, the feathered thighs,
and the talons so strong and fierce.

"He will lose his bird if he doesn't get at pitch," the falconer
muttered, and he seemed ashamed of his hawk when it alighted in the
branches, and stood there preening itself in the vague sunlight. But
suddenly it woke up to its duty, and going in pursuit of a
partridge, stooped and brought it to earth.

"A fine kill; we shall have some better sport with the ducks."

Owen asked the dragoman to translate what the falconer said.

"He said it was a fine kill. He is proud of his bird."

Some Arabs rode away, and Owen heard that a boat would be required to
put up the ducks; and he was told the duck is the swiftest bird in
the air once it gets into flight, but if the peregrine is at pitch
it will stoop, and bring the duck to earth, though the duck is by
five times the heavier bird. The teal is a bird which is even more
difficult for the hawk to overtake, for it rises easier than the
duck; but if the hawk be at pitch it will strike down the quick teal.
One of the Arabs reined in his horse, and following the line of the
outstretched finger Owen saw far away in a small pool or plash of
water three teal swimming. As soon as the hawk swooped the teal
dived, but not the least disconcerted, the hawk, as if understanding
that the birds were going to be put up, rose to pitch and waited,
"quite professional like," Owen said. The beautiful little drake was
picked out of a tuft of alfa-grass. But perhaps it was the snipe that
afforded the best sport.

At mid-day the falconers halted for rest and a meal, and Owen passed
all the hawks in review, learning that the male, the t