It took him but a few minutes to reach the place, and as he paused and looked keenly around for the nest, an infuriated mass of great wings and feathers hurled itself upon him.  Taken by surprise, Reynolds staggered back, and lifted his stick to ward off the attack.  How he saved himself from being torn to pieces by the talons and beak of that angry bird he never could tell.  It was a mystery to him that he was able to defend himself at all.  But do it he did, and used his stick in such a skilful manner that he kept the creature from tearing at his face.  Fortunately he had a good footing, which enabled him to retreat at each desperate onslaught, and to meet the bird with a furious blow as it wheeled and circled close above his head.  But he realised that he could not endure the strain much longer, for he was weak through lack of food and hard climbing.  The energy of the eagle, on the other hand, seemed just as keen as ever, and it might continue the fight for hours.  Reynolds grew desperate as he thought of this, and he was determined that he should not leave his body there as food for his opponent.

He watched as the bird again circled and once more swept to the attack.  But he was ready, and as it swooped close enough he threw his entire remaining strength into one great swinging blow.  The stick struck the eagle fair on the head with a resounding crash, and so great was the force of the impact that the cudgel snapped like a pipestem, and the broken end hurtled over the ledge.  The eagle’s fight was done.  It swerved from its course, and frantically tried to recover itself.  But all in vain.  Far out over the hillside it swung, and then a helpless and inert mass, it dropped down, and crashed into the tops of the firs and jack-pines, which lifted their heads like pointed spears to receive the victim.

Reynolds watched until the bird had disappeared.  Then he breathed a deep sigh of relief, and examined his wounds.  His hands were bleeding, and such clothes as he had were literally torn into shreds.  He was so weak that he could hardly stand, and he sank down upon the ground.

“How long will this keep up?” he panted.  “What else lies before me?  I am a poor specimen of a human being now, and unfitted for another encounter of any kind.  This was my own fault, though.  That poor devil I just sent to its doom was merely acting in self-defence.  But the survival of the fittest is the law of the wilderness just as in the ways of so-called civilization.  That bird had what I needed; and that settles it.”

This turned his mind upon the nest, which he suspected was somewhere near.  In another minute he had found it, a mass of sticks, in the midst of which was a hollow lined with wild grass, and lying there were three white eggs.  Eagerly he seized one, and held it in his hand.  Was it fresh? he wondered, or was it ready to be hatched?

Drawing forth his pocket-knife, he perforated each end of the egg, and smelled the contents.  It was fresh, having been recently laid.  In another instant it was at his parched lips, and never did he remember having tasted anything half as refreshing.  Then he looked longingly at the other two.