Quite out of reach, on the ledge above his head, the female eagle lay stunned and broken-winged, but still alive.  To scale the cliff was not possible, for here it sloped sharply out over its base, where it had been worn smooth by the stream at some previous age when the water was swollen higher.  There were no trailing vines or overhanging saplings strong enough to bear Ralph’s weight; but, foreseeing this very obstacle, he had brought a rope which he now uncoiled from around his waist.  He flung it dexterously over the ledge.  To his utter surprise, it caught there at the middle, while the other end dangled within his grasp.  He seized it, gave a few strong tugs at each end of the rope to make certain it was secure, leaving his coat and rifle on the ground, and then he began to climb up, hand-over-hand.

Gaining the ledge, he at once saw the wounded bird.  After a short, sharp struggle, he dispatched her, and was in the act of tying the lifeless body to his hunting belt when he was startled suddenly by a loud whir of wings, and something hit him a stinging blow on the back of his head.  The male eagle, attracted by the shrill cries of its mate, had come to the rescue!

A hasty glance over his shoulder showed him an alarming glimpse of the mighty potentate of the air bent on revenge for the death of his mate.  Ralph ducked just in time to escape another blow from those powerful wings, and he struck out wildly with his right arm, missing the winged warrior by a mere inch.  He saw that he was going to wage battle, then and there, on the face of that precipitous cliff.

As he drew his long hunting knife out of its sheath, the eagle darted at him once more.  Ralph threw his arms up to shield his head and face, and as he did so, his foot slipped.  He clutched frantically at the rock to save himself from falling, and dropped his knife.  He heard it clink on the rocks several feet below his reach.

Before he could fully recover his footing, the bird was upon him, beak and talons, seizing the sleeve of his shirt and making gashes in the boy’s arm.  By a mighty effort Ralph got his balance again, and turned to meet the onslaught, waving his arms like flails, to beat down the force of those wide threshing wings.  Again and again the eagle made a vicious rush, and once managed to get under Ralph’s arm and to take an ugly nip in the flesh just above the eye.  Maddened by the pain of this wound, and half blinded by the blood which soon began to flow from the cut, Ralph snatched the dead bird from his belt and swung it around his head like a club.  Once this improvised club crashed against the attacking bird, and Ralph took advantage of the latter’s hasty retreat to slide down the ropes and land on firmer ground.  He tossed the dead bird aside, and lunged forward to recapture his knife.  But the king of the clouds was not by any means outdone.  Indeed, the sight of his dead mate lying on the rocks,