The result must have been satisfactory, for presently he observed: "Purty fair day's wages, but I believe I could make more killing terns and gulls than these birds.

Bill Jones and the hunters up on Cobb's Island last year got ten cents apiece for all the gulls they killed.
Forty thousand were killed right there.

Oh, it's bound to be a mighty good business for us fellows as long as the wimmen are in the notion, that is, if the birds ain't all killed off." "Air they getting scarce ?" questioned the boy.

The man ejected a mouthful of dark, offensive juice from between his grizzled whiskers before replying.
"Yes, purty tol'ble scarce.

So much demand for 'em is bound to clean the birds out.