TREED AND TUMBLED. 167 



By the time I reached the spot the enemy had gained the 

 first fork, not twenty feet overhead, and is it to be wondered 

 at that at such a short range, with not a twig to intervene, 

 and with a clear view of the quarry's shoulder, one barrel 

 brought him to the ground with no more action in his 

 carcase than the usual death-struggle? My trophy was 

 not large but well fed, and his hams afforded me for 

 many a subsequent morning a bonne louche worthy of a 

 hunter. 



But poor little Prince got into trouble before he reached 

 home. As I struck the margin of a river which lay in my 

 route, I observed a large bald-headed eagle sailing about. 

 Keeping under the shelter of some brush, I waited for a 

 chance. My right-hand barrel I had reloaded with heavy 

 shot, and, as the bird passed about seventy yards off, I gave 

 him a portion of its contents, which was responded to by 

 his immediately reaching the ground with a broken wing. 

 Prince, plucky with the issue of his late engagement, made 

 a dash at the bird, but caught a Tartar, for he was seized 

 by both talons, and, but that I came to the rescue, would 

 have been rendered useless for any other purpose than 

 baiting a wolf trap. As it was, after I had killed the 

 bird I had some difficulty in unloosening its claws, and I 

 doubt if my faithful^ little mongrel had lived to the age of 

 Methuselah, he ever would have been induced to tackle 

 another eagle. 



