WITH BEAK AND CLAW 39 



Shan ducked. 



The talons ruffled through his hair. 



In ducking, however, the lad was compelled to 

 throw his entire weight on the branch whereon he 

 was perched so precariously. 



Crack! 



Cedar gives no warning and the boy's right foot 

 shot from under him. Instinctively he threw his 

 whole weight on his left hand which clutched the 

 nest. Consisting of nought but a heap of branches 

 loosely piled, the stick he had grasped began to 

 pull out of the nest. 



It was neck or nothing. 



With a yell, Shan let go his other hand, grabbed 

 wildly at the nest, and, with hands, feet and teeth, 

 scrambled up the pile of dry and rotten sticks 

 which composed the nest. They snapped, broke or 

 gave way, as he climbed. 



The noise and sudden rush were too much for 

 the hen-bird. Instead of striking at the boy's 

 fingers, as he had feared, she rose from the nest 

 with a hoarse shriek and joined her mate in the air, 

 adding her cries to his. 



In the dust and panicky confusion of that wild 

 scramble, wherein he clawed and grabbed at any- 

 thing and everything, Shan vaguely expected, each 



