“What castle is that?”
“Rannage. This one on the island is Turkree. Every chief used to have a place of that sort, and most of ’em built their castles on rocks like that sticking out into the sea.”
Max gazed eagerly at the ruined towers, the homes of jackdaws, bats, and owls, and he was beginning to dream about the old times when men in armour and courtly ladies used to dwell in these sea-girt fortalices, but his reverie was broken in upon by a sharp snapping bark from Sneeshing, and an exclamation from Scood.
“Oh, you beauty!” exclaimed Kenneth, as he gazed up at a great strong-winged, hawk-like bird, which went sailing by. “See, Max. Blue hawk.”
“Is that a blue hawk?” said Max, as he gazed wonderingly at the rapidity with which the great bird cut through the air.
“Yes; peregrine falcon, the books call it. There’s a nest yonder where we’re going.”
“Where?”
“On the face of that great grey cliff that you can see under the sail.”
Max gazed at the huge wall of rock about a mile away, and noted that the falcon was making for it as fast as its wings would beat.
“Are we going there?”