"Ah, you must not do that, or we shall be upset at the next gust," said Frank.
After an hour and a half of very exciting sailing, they had sailed the five miles of Breydon Water, and ran into the smoother current of the Waveney. Here, also, they got the wind more aslant, and skimmed along at a great pace with very little labour. In this way, they sailed some fifteen miles, and at length came to anchor in a sheltered spot under a wood-crowned bank not far from Beccles. After making all snug and eating their dinner, the most natural thing to do was to explore the wood near them. They left the yacht, and crossing a meadow they entered the wood. It was a thick fir-plantation and promised well for nests.
"What is that one?" said Jimmy, pointing to a nest in a tall fir-tree, "is it a crow's, or an old wood-pigeon's, or a hawk's? Who will go up and see?"
"I will," said Frank, and up he went hand over hand among the thick boughs. As he neared the top, he was obliged to proceed more cautiously, for the branches were thin, and the tree swayed in the wind. All doubts as to the kind of nest were speedily dissolved, for with a cry of rage, a sparrow-hawk came dashing up, and flew in circles around the tree, screaming angrily, and making fierce attacks at the invader of its home. Frank, nothing daunted, continued his upward way, and soon was able to see into the nest.
"There are four young ones," he cried.
Sparrow-hawk.
"What a pity," said Jimmy. "If they had only been eggs! Look sharp and come down, Frank, you are swinging about so much that it does not seem safe up there."
But Frank answered nothing, and remained on his perch.