aseless screaming.

We made no attempt to kill or capture any of the birds. One bird,
however, we did take, and that more by accident than intention. It
happened this way:

My dog was trotting before us, with her nose to the ground, when
suddenly she made a run through the short heather after a lapwing,
which was, or pretended to be, unable to fly. I think it was trying
to decoy the dog away from its nest. As we watched the chase, Tom
cried out:

"Look, look, there's a hawk after them!"

And, indeed, so it was. The lapwing ran with wondrous speed, and
before Selta had time to snap at it a hawk had nipped in before the
dog's nose in the attempt to rob her of her prey. Unfortunately for
the larger bird, however, the dog's snap, intended for the
fugitive, came upon the hawk's outstretched neck. The lapwing
escaped unhurt, and flew screaming into the air, but Selta held to
the hawk till we ran up and helped her. I managed to secure the
bird's wings, which flapped about with surprising strength, while
Tom held its struggling legs.

"Thraw its neck, thraw its neck!" cried Rosson, now coming up to
us.

Selta loosened her hold, and Willie Hercus took the hawk's head in
his hand, carefully guarding against its sharp beak, gave its neck
a rapid twist, and the bird was dead.

"What kind of a bird is it?" eagerly asked Kinlay, whose knowledge
of our native birds was as imperfect as his knowledge of Latin
conjugations.

"Can you not see it's a harrier--a hen harrier?" I said, as I
stretched out the large and beautiful wings of gray-blue feathers
and proceeded to bind the bird's feet with a string.

"The very same that Thora spoke of, I'll be bound!" Tom exclaimed
with satisfaction, as he evidently thought of his sister's secret
of the nest on the Black Craigs.

"What'll we do with it?" asked Hercus. "Is it good for eating?"

"Nonsense, Willie!" said I. "Surely we've birds in plenty without
eating hawks! Let's give it to the dominie."

"Ay, let's give it to the dominie," chimed in Robbie Rosson, always
ready to agree with whatever I proposed.

"The dominie! What for would you give it to the dominie?" objected
Kinlay. "It's my bird. I first saw it."

"Your bird! your bird, indeed!" exclaimed Hercus, putting his hands
in his pockets and assuming an attitude of indignant surprise. "Is
it the man who first sees the whale that has the blubber? No, no,
Ericson's dog caught the bird. Let Hal do as he likes with his
own.