“I should like to hear about the gazelles first.”

“I never knew you cared so much for sport, Harding; I thought you would be more interested in the desert itself, and in Beclere’s.  It spoils a story to cut it down to a mere sporting episode.  There doesn’t seem to be anything to tell now except I tell it at length:  those great birds, nearly three feet high, with long heads like javelins, and round, clear eyes, and lank bodies, feathered thighs, and talons that find out instinctively the vital parts, the heart and the liver; the bird moves up seeking these.  And that is what is so terrible, the cruel instinct which makes every life conditional on another’s death.  We live upon dead things, cooked or uncooked.”

“But how are these birds carried?”

“That is what I asked myself all the way across the desert.  The hawks are carried on the wrist, but a bird three feet high cannot be carried on the wrist.  The eagle is carried on the pummel of the saddle.”

“And how are the gazelles taken and the eagles recaptured?”

“They answer to the lure just like a hawk.  The gazelles come down into the desert after the rains to feed among the low bushes, rosemary and lavender.  In the plain, of course, they have no chance, the bird overtakes them at once; fleet as they are, wings are fleeter, and they are over-taken with incredible ease, the bird just flutters after them.  But the hunt is more interesting when there are large rocks between which the gazelles can take cover; then the bird will alight on the rock and wait for the deer to be driven out, and the deer dreads the eagle so much that sometimes they won’t leave the rocks, and we pick them up in our hands.  The instinct of the eagle is extraordinary, as you will see; the first gazelle was a doe, and the eagle swept on in front, and, turning rapidly, flew straight into the hind’s face, the talons gathered up ready to strangle her.  But the buck will sometimes show fight, and, not caring to face the horns, the eagle will avoid a frontal attack and sweep round in the rear, attacking the buck in the quarters and riding him to death, just as a goshawk rides a rabbit, seeking out all the while the vital parts.”

“But gazelles are such small deer; now it would be more interesting with larger deer.”

“We killed some larger deer and some sheep, wild sheep I mean, or goats, it is hard to say which they are; the courage of the birds is extraordinary, they will attack almost anything, driving the sheep headlong over the precipices.  We caught many a fox.  The eagle strikes the fox with one talon, reserving the other to clutch the fox’s throat when he turns round to bite.  Eagles will attack wolves; wolves are hunted in Mongolia with eagles, the fight must be extraordinary.  One of these days I must go there.”

“If Evelyn Innes doesn’t return to you.”

“One must do something,” Owen answered.