The dogs make a rush as far as their leashes or harness allow.

The penguins are not daunted in the least, but their ruffs go up and they squawk with semblance of anger, for all the world as though they were rebuking a rude stranger--their attitude might be imagined to convey 'Oh, that's the sort of animal you are; well, you've come to the wrong place--we aren't going to be bluffed and bounced by you,' and then the final fatal steps forward are taken and they come within reach.

There is a spring, a squawk, a horrid red patch on the snow, and the incident is closed.

Nothing can stop these silly birds.

Members of our party rush to head them off, only to be met with evasions--the penguins squawk and duck as much as to say, 'What's it got to do with you, you silly ass?
Let us alone.' With the first spilling of blood the skua gulls assemble, and soon, for them at least, there is a gruesome satisfaction to be reaped.