I gave a word to the dog, and Selta ran forward to meet the middle seal, which she kept at bay as she might have kept a sheep, barking in its face and always getting between it and the water.  Tom and Robbie ran after one of the others, while the largest seal, which I had marked as my own prize, managed to escape me and plunge into the sea.  I then turned to encounter the seal that the dog and Willie Hercus had arrested.  Willie, having no stick or harpoon, was throwing large stones at the animal, which seemed to pay little attention to them, but kept its large, beautiful eyes fixed upon the dog.  One of the stones, unfortunately, struck Selta, and when she turned, the seal made its way past.  I saw the movement and succeeded in striking the seal on the nose with my knobbed stick.  The animal collapsed at once; its head dropped on the sand, and it moved no more.

Meanwhile Robbie and Tom, who had my harpoon, were having a hard fight.  Their seal had been struck once with the harpoon on the left shoulder.  Tom tried to intercept its retreat, and just as it was entering the water he fell down upon it with all his weight, at the same time grasping its wounded flipper in his two hands.  The seal, though weak, drew him some way over the slippery stones and into the sea; but Tom proved victor.  Rising on his knees in the water, he wrapped both his arms round the seal, and, with the assistance of Rosson, succeeded in carrying it ashore, where it was finally killed.

We had heavy work conveying our two seals up the beach to the place where we had left our dead bird; and there with our knives we proceeded to secure the skins and the blubber, leaving the carcasses behind for the cormorants and carrion crows.

Willie Hercus and I were finished first, and we carefully folded up our perfect sealskin.  But Tom, who was less accustomed to the work, fumbled away awkwardly, muttering to himself when his sharp blade cut into the skin instead of neatly parting it from the body.

As we sat on a rock waiting for our companions, Selta went sniffing about on her own account and rooting into the far corners of the old cave.  She at length found her way to the dead hen harrier, as it lay on a slab of flagstone.  Hercus called her off as she put her nose too closely to the bird.  But Selta was following her instincts; for, in turning the bird with her nose, she disturbed a small rat which was coolly making its meal there.  I ran to examine the damage done to the hawk (for I was anxious to give the bird uninjured to Mr. Drever), while Willie followed the dog into the crevice where she had chased the rat.  I found the harrier was not much damaged; a few feathers were bitten out and a little of the skin was broken, that was all.

I put my harpoon and stick through the string that secured the bird’s legs and slung it over my shoulder, gathered up our sealskin, and went to hurry up Tom and Robbie, for the tide was rising and we had a long journey before us.  Tom had just cut the last of the skin from the seal’s head, and when he had folded it up, the three of us began our walk towards the further shore of the bay, expecting Hercus to follow with the dog.