. White wings, a yachting romance . e water, with a glistening, smooth head, andlarge, soft eyes. Then another. We dared not move. We wait-ed for the whistle of the rifle-bullet. The next instant the firstseal caught sight of the Laird, raised its head for an instant atleast six inches higher, then silently plunged along with its com-panion. They were gone, at all events. The Youth came marching along the rocks, his rifie over hisshoulder. Why didnt you fire ? his uncle said, almost angrily. I thought they were coming nearer, said he. I was justabout to fire when they dived. Mind, it isnt very
. White wings, a yachting romance . e water, with a glistening, smooth head, andlarge, soft eyes. Then another. We dared not move. We wait-ed for the whistle of the rifle-bullet. The next instant the firstseal caught sight of the Laird, raised its head for an instant atleast six inches higher, then silently plunged along with its com-panion. They were gone, at all events. The Youth came marching along the rocks, his rifie over hisshoulder. Why didnt you fire ? his uncle said, almost angrily. I thought they were coming nearer, said he. I was justabout to fire when they dived. Mind, it isnt very easy to geton to a thing that is bobbing about like that, with a rifle. I pro-pose we have luncheon now, until the tide ebbs a bit; then theremay be a chance of catching one lying on the rocks. That isthe proper time for getting a shot at a seal. We had luncheon: there was no difficulty about securing as for getting at the seals—whether we crawled over therocks, or lay in hiding, or allowed the boat to drift toward some. CHASINft SEALS. 163 island, on tlie chance of one of them rising in our neighborhood—it was no use at all. There were plenty of seals about: a snapshot now and again served to break the monotony of the day;but that present for Mary Avon seemed as remote as ever. Andwhen one is determined on shooting a seal, one is not likely towaste ones attention and cartridges on such inferior animals asskarts. The silver-gray day became more golden; there was a touchof warm purple about the shadows of Staffa. Come, said the Laird, at last. We must go back. It isno use. I have often heard people say that if you miss the firstchance at a seal, it never gives ye another. Better luck next time, uncle, said the Youth; but his unclerefused to be comforted. And the first thing he said to Mary Avon when he got back tothe yacht was, « We have not got it! Got what ? said she. The seal-skin I wanted to have dressed for ye. No, nor theskarts I wanted to have made into a m
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1880
