Beyond the headland on which Mr.Selincourt had erected his fish-flakes there extended miles of broken ground, with split rocks and riven cliffs which might have been the result of volcanic upheaval, but were probably only the product of the intense frost of centuries.

This was Mary's happy hunting ground, a place full of scientific surprises, and full of dangers too.

For the rocks were slippery, the heights tremendous, and a fall in many places must have meant certain death.
Jervis Ferrars had been in his boat one morning along the coast to a certain bay or inlet much beloved of the black-headed gulls.
These birds were valuable either for their plucked feathers, or for their skins with the feathers left on.

They frequented the inlet in their tens of thousands, and it had occurred to him that it might be good business to secure a couple of thousand skins, and get them dry for packing by the time the next boat arrived, probably in the middle of August.
He had beached his boat, and spent an hour or more wandering round the crags, and planning the campaign against the luckless gulls, which dozed in sleepy content on the sunny slopes of the inlet.
Then, taking to his boat again, he pulled himself back towards Seal Cove, maturing his plans on the way.

He was passing a rocky promontory just before reaching the fish-flakes, when he heard a yelping noise, and, looking up, saw a big dog running to and fro on the rocks in evident distress.