This was a business he was
weel used wi', he had been a craigsman frae a laddie, and trustit
nane but himsel'. So there was he hingin' by a line an' speldering
on the craig face, whaur its hieest and steighest. Fower tenty
lads were on the tap, hauldin' the line and mindin' for his
signals. But whaur Tam hung there was naething but the craig, and
the sea belaw, and the solans skirlin and flying. It was a braw
spring morn, and Tam whustled as he claught in the young geese.
Mony's the time I've heard him tell of this experience, and aye the
swat ran upon the man.
It chanced, ye see, that Tam keeked up, and he was awaur of a
muckle solan, and the solan pyking at the line. He thocht this by-
ordinar and outside the creature's habits. He minded that ropes
was unco saft things, and the solan's neb and the Bass Rock unco
hard, and that twa hunner feet were raither mair than he would care
to fa'.
"Shoo!" says Tam. "Awa', bird! Shoo, awa' wi' ye!" says he.
The solan keekit doon into Tam's face, and there was something unco
in the creature's ee. Just the ae keek it gied, and back to the
rope.
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