92 Wilderness Ways. 



up river in hot haste, singing in exultation that we 

 had the fierce old bird at last. When we doubled 

 the last point that hid the shallows, there was Old 

 Whitehead, still tugging away at a fish, and splashing 

 the water not thirty yards away. I shall not soon 

 forget his attitude and expression as we shot round 

 the point, his body erect and rigid, his wings half 

 spread, his head thrust forward, eyelids drawn straight, 

 and a strong fierce gleam of freedom and utter wild- 

 ness in his bright eyes. So he stood, a magnificent 

 creature, till we were almost upon him, when he rose 

 quietly, taking one of the trout. The other was 

 already in his stomach. He was not in the trap at 

 all, but had walked carefully round it. The splashing 

 was made in tearing one fish to pieces with his claws, 

 and freeing the other from a stake that held it. 



After that he would not go near the shallows ; for 

 a new experience had come into his life, leaving its 

 shadow dark behind it. He who was king of all he 

 surveyed from the old blasted pine on the crag's top, 

 who had always heretofore been the hunter, now 

 knew what it meant to be hunted. And the fear of 

 it was in his eyes, I think, and softened their fierce 

 gleam when I looked into them again, weeks later, 

 by his own nest on the mountain. 



Simmo entered also into our hunting, but without 



