CHAPTER XV.
A FIERCE FIGHT WITH EAGLES.
But although Step Hen spoke so flippantly, he was far from being asconfident as he pretended. In fact, as he proceeded downward, he foundhis task getting more and more difficult.
One thing that bothered him was the getting up again. He just felt surethat he would not be able to accomplish it; but then, if it came to theworst, doubtless the balance of the descent was no harder to manage thanthis; and after first sending his big-horn down, he might pick his ownway after it, and the others could follow as best they saw fit.
Step Hen was a self-reliant boy, at any rate; sometimes the scoutmasterfeared too much so. And since he had said he was going to get that game,and was already part way down the face of the rocky wall, there wasnothing to be done but keep right along, which he proceeded to do.
He could not get the slightest glimpse of his comrades. They weresomewhere up above him; but just as the guide had declared, the faceof the wall fell away in places, and this kept taking him furtherbeyond their range of vision constantly.
Whenever he could do so without imperiling his support, Step Hen wouldcrook his neck, and look downward, in the hope of seeing where thesheep lay. He could not help thinking how much easier this effortwould come for him, if a kindly Nature had given him the extensiveneck that Giraffe possessed.
"There it is!" he exclaimed, joyfully, as his anxious eyes fell uponan object just a short distance below, and which he knew must be thecrumpled body of his big-horn. "And I ought to get there now withoutbreaking my neck. Wow! that was a near tumble, all right! Careful,boy, careful now! Them horns of yours ain't growed big enough to dropon, like the sheep do."
He halted for a full minute, not that he was so tired in the arms, butto recover from the shock received when he came so near falling. Thenonce more resuming his labor, he presently had the satisfaction ofdropping beside the motionless body of his victim.
"Bigger horns than Smithy's had!" was his first exclamation, as hebent over, the better to see; and at the same moment he becameconscious of the fact that some buzzards, or some other big birds,were swooping around close by, making him think they had looked on hisdead sheep as their next dinner.
"Guess p'raps I'd better be tossing it over here, and letting it rolldown to the bottom; then I c'n foller the best way there is, and----"
Something gave him a sudden fierce blow that knocked Step Hen down onhis hands and knees; and he might have rolled over the edge of thenarrow shelf, only for his good luck in catching hold of the sheep'srounded horns.
"Quit that, you silly! you nearly knocked me over that time!" heshouted angrily; his very first thought being that one of the otherboys, presumably Davy Jones, because he was so smart about climbingeverywhere, had followed after him, and was thus rudely announcing hisarrival close on the heels of the first explorer.
But as Step Hen raised his head to look, to his surprise he failed tosee any one near him. A dreadful suspicion that Davy might havepitched over the edge of the narrow shelf, after striking him,assailed the scout; and he was almost on the point of looking, whensuddenly there was a rush of great wings, and he dropped flat on hisface just in time to avoid being struck a second time.
"Whew! eagles, and mad as hops at me for comin' here!" gasped StepHen, as, raising his head cautiously, like a turtle peeping out of itsshell, he caught sight of two wheeling birds that came and went withtremendous speed.
He noted the spread of their immense wings, and it seemed to Step Henas if in all his experience he had never before gazed upon morepowerful birds than those two Rocky Mountain eagles.
Perhaps they had a nest near by, with young eaglets in it, and fanciedthat he was bent on robbing them. Then again, the big birds may havedecided that they could make good use of the fine quarry that hadlodged in the rocks so conveniently near their nest; and resented thecoming of another claimant.
But no matter what the contributing cause might be, they wereundoubtedly as "mad as a wet hen," as Step Hen afterwards declared, intelling of his adventure there on that shelf of rock, fully a hundredfeet from the top and the bottom, on the steep face of the mountain.
His first thought was how he could fight back, for he saw that he wasto be at the mercy of the great birds that swooped down again andagain, striking viciously at him with claws, beaks and powerfulwings, until the boy was bleeding in half a dozen different places.
In casting his eyes about, even as he fought with his bare hands, andshouted for assistance at the top of his voice, Step Hen made a littlediscovery. A tree must have grown up above at one time or other, forthere, stuck fast in a crevice of the rock he saw a pretty good-sizedremnant of a branch that he believed would make a fair cudgel, betterthan his bare hands at any rate, with which to strike at the attackingeagles.
When he had clutched this in his eager hand the boy felt moreconfidence; and watching his opportunity he did manage to meet theswoop of the next bird with a whack that sent it whirling back. Butthey quickly learned to adopt other tactics, now that he was armed,both of them coming together from opposite directions; so that unableto dodge, or hit back properly Step Hen again found himself gettingthe worst of the fight.
Would his companions be able to do anything for him; or was he to beleft there on that shelf of rock, to either conquer his savageenemies, alone and unaided, or succumb to their ferocious assaults?
All the while he was beating at them with might and main Step Hen keptup a constant shouting. He had a double purpose in this,--hoping totempt one of his companions to descend to his rescue, carrying a gun,since they seemed unable to hit the birds from above, though severalshots had been fired; and then again it was possible that the sound ofa human voice would by degrees cause the eagles to haul off.
"Take that, will you!" the boy cried, whenever he succeeded inreaching either of his feathered assailants with his club. "Come at meagain, will you? Just wait, and see what happens to you yet! Ouch!that hurt some, now! Oh! if I could only swing this club aroundbetter, without bein' afraid of tumbling over, wouldn't I knock theirheads off,--wow! once more you'll have it, will you? See the feathersfly! I b'lieve they're weakenin' some, sure I do; but what about me?I'll bleed to death yet, if they keep on tapping me like that."
So Step Hen went on, shouting and whacking away, doing the best he wasable under the circumstances. Nobody could ever say at any rate, butwhat he put up a strapping good fight of it, he kept thinking; but allthe same he cast an anxious eye upward whenever he could find achance, hoping to see a pair of human legs heave in sight, anddiscover the welcome face of either Davy Jones or the guide.
"Bring a gun! Bring a gun!"
That was about the burden of his shouts. He hoped those aboveunderstood what he was saying. The eagles seldom went far outside agiven circle, so that they could only be glimpsed from aboveoccasionally; and it was like shooting at a disappearing target in thegallery, to try and hit them under such circumstances.
Step Hen had knocked one of the great birds down for the sixth time,and was dismayed to see that he had not even then disabled it, sinceit immediately started to fly again, no wing having been broken by hisclub; when he thought he caught the sound of a human voice close by.
Then some loose stones rattled down beside him, giving him a thrill ofjoy; for he knew now reinforcements were on the way, and it nerved himto fight on.
Another minute, and some one dropped down beside the crouching StepHen, who was breathing hard from his exertions, but still full ofpluck, as a true scout should always be.
"Toby!" he called out, in a quavering voice, and looking very grim,with his face so scratched, and streaked with blood; "I'm sure glad tosee you; but gladder to notice that you've got your gun! Look out!there they come again! Dodge, Toby, dodge; they're on to you!"
But the guide had snatched his gun from about his back, where it hadbeen securely fastened with a stout cord. He had no time to aim orfire just then, only to swing the barrel around, and strike viciouslyat the swoopi
ng bird, that threw its claws forward as it pounced uponhim, just as a fish-hawk might do on striking the water.
The attack was quickly parried, and now Toby also had a streak ofblood on his cheek, where one of those furious wings had struck him.
Now he turned the gun quickly around in his hands.
"Leave one for me, Toby!" pleaded the boy, eagerly. "I ought to havethe pleasure of knocking over one of 'em, after what they have done tome. Oh! you put it to that gay old robber of honest fish-hawks, sureyou did! And he's gone down below-decks for good. Give me your gun,Toby; I _must_ have it, I tell you!"
And the guide, understanding, as well as sympathizing with, the spiritthat caused the other to cry out in this fashion, did thrust hisrepeating rifle into the hands of Step Hen, after throwing thedischarged shell out, and sending a fresh one into the firing chamber.
With a satisfaction that words could never paint, Step Hen followedthe swinging form of the remaining eagle as it flew around so as toget in line for another swoop. And just as the great bird started tocome down at them, the boy pulled the trigger.
His aim was true, and the second eagle pitched forward, whirling overand over as it went tumbling down the face of the descent, just asits mate had done.
"Hurrah!" shouted Step Hen, tremendously pleased with the finaloutcome of the fight with the pair of fierce pirates of the upper aircurrents; "that's what they get for tackling me, ain't it, Toby? Wegave 'em what they needed, didn't we? But say, I'm just thinkin' thatit's going to be a tough old job for me to get back up where the boysare; and that p'raps we'll have to keep on climbin' down, aftershoving the big-horn off the shelf."
And the guide, after recovering his breath, which had been used up inhis recent hasty movements in coming to the rescue, looking over theedge, admitted that he believed such a course was the only one left tothem.
Boy Scouts in the Rockies; Or, The Secret of the Hidden Silver Mine Page 15