“‘He will give it up,’ we both said.

“But he did not.  He chipped away until at last the limb fell to the ground.  Then he pocketed his knife, and bravely strove to get up higher.  It was a dizzy height even for a grown hunter, but the boy never looked down.  He went on until he came to a place about ten feet below the nest, where there was a long, bare space on the trunk, with no limbs or knots to cling to.  He was baffled then.  He looked up at the nest many times, tried to find some place to catch hold of the rough bark and sought closely for some rest higher up to put his foot on.  But there was none.  An eagle’s nest was a rare thing to him, and he hugged the tree and thought.  Suddenly he began to descend again hastily, and soon dropped to the ground.  Away he ran down through the ravines, leaped the little streams and disappeared toward his home.  In a few minutes the torn straw hat and blue shirt came flitting back among the rocks and bushes.  He called the sheep to him, talked to them, and shook his finger at them, then he clambered up the tree again, dragging after him a long piece of his mother’s clothes line.  At one end of it, he had tied a large stone, which hindered his progress, for it caught in the limbs and splinters.  The wind blew his torn straw hat away down a side cliff, and one side of his trousers was soon torn to strips.  But he went on.  When he got to the smooth place on the tree again, he fastened one end of the rope about his wrist, and then taking the stone which was fastened to the other end, he tried to throw it up over the nest.  It was an awkward and dangerous position, and the stone did not reach the top.  Six or seven times he threw that stone up, and it fell short or went to one side, and nearly dragged him down as it fell.

“The boy felt for his knife again, opened it with his teeth as he held on, and hauling the rope up, cut off a part of it.  He threw a short piece around the trunk and tied himself with it to the tree.  Then he could lean back for a longer throw.  He tied the rope to his hand again, and threw the stone with all his energy.  It went straight as an arrow, drew the rope squarely over the nest and fell down the other side of the tree.  After a struggle he reached around for the stone, and tied that end of the rope to a long broken limb.  When he drew the other end of the rope which had been fastened to his hand, it broke down the sides of the nest, and an old bird arose with a wild scream.

“Then he loosed the rope which held him to the tree, and pulling himself up with his hands on the scaling line, digging his bare toes, heels and knees at times into the ragged bark, he was up in two minutes to the nest.”

“That is a child’s ambition,” said one of the men, as they both drew a breath of relief, when he stepped safely to the ground.  “Wait until he has a man’s ambition.  If that vein of perseverance doesn’t run out, he will do something worth while.”