72 The Wilderness Hunter. 



shot it precisely as a grayhound would have done, 

 stopping itself by a powerful, setting motion of the great 

 pinions. Twice this manoeuvre was repeated ; then the 

 eagle made a quick rush, caught and overthrew the quarry 

 before it could turn, and in another moment was sitting 

 triumphant on the quivering body, the crooked talons 

 driven deep into the soft, furry sides. 



Once while hunting mountain sheep in the Bad Lands I 

 killed an eagle on the wing with the rifle. I was walking 

 beneath a cliff of gray clay, when the eagle sailed into 

 view over the crest. As soon as he saw me he threw his 

 wings aback, and for a moment before wheeling poised 

 motionless, offering a nearly stationary target ; so that 

 my bullet grazed his shoulder, and down he came through 

 the air, tumbling over and over. As he struck the 

 ground he threw himself on his back, and fought against 

 his death with the undaunted courage proper to his 

 brave and cruel nature. 



Indians greatly prize the feathers of this eagle. With 

 them they make their striking and beautiful war bonnets, 

 and bedeck the manes and tails of their spirited war 

 ponies. Every year the Grosventres and Mandans from 

 the Big Missouri come to the neighborhood of my ranch 

 to hunt. Though not good marksmen they kill many 

 whitetail deer, driving the bottoms for them in bands, on 

 horseback ; and they catch many eagles. Sometimes 

 they take these alive by exposing a bait near which a hole 

 is dug, where one of them lies hidden for days, with 

 Indian patience, until an eagle lights on the bait and is 

 noosed. 



