her is with the burrd."

The clumsy boom swung across as we changed our course, and the
water ran from us in smooth reaches on either side: the bird flew
steadily on.

"What will the spirit do?" I said.

The old man looked at me gravely.

"Her'll rest in the Lard's time, in the Lard's gude time--but now
her'll just be follerin' on with the burrd."

The gull was flying close to us now, and a cold wind swept the
sunny sea. I shivered: Daddy looked at me curiously.

"There be reason enough to be cawld if us did but knaw it, but I he
mos' used to 'em, poor sawls." He shaded his keen old blue eyes,
and looked away across the water. His face kindled. "There be a
skule comin', and by my sawl 'tis mackerel they be drivin'."

I watched eagerly, and saw the dark line rise and fall in the
trough of the sea, and, away behind, the stir and rush of tumbling
porpoises as they chased their prey.

Again we changed our tack, and each taking an oar, pulled lustily
for the beach.

"Please God her'll break inshore," said Daddy Whiddon; and he
shouted the news to the idle waiting men who hailed us.