154. CAMP FIRE REMINISCENCES 
it as it was slow to recover from its surprise and in 
starting on its journey again. They are protected 
in Montana, but what a toll in kids a couple of 
eagles must collect in one year off these cliffs. 
Once in the west far up in the cloudless sky 
something attracted my attention. -At first it 
looked like a bundle of brown paper which had been 
taken up by one of the little whirlwinds, so often 
Seen Sweeping over valleys in the Rockies, and 
taking columns of dust high in the air. It turned © 
out to be, however, two eagles fighting. Some- 
times their wings being outspread, they remained 
for a few seconds at the same altitude—pluck- 
ing each other, then falling hundreds of feet 
they would catch the air again with their wings. 
Finally, they fell a long way into the scrub oak on 
the mountain side, forty or fifty yards from the 
road along which I was driving. Getting out, I 
hurried up and there they both lay—gasping, but 
separated. Had I chosen to risk a bad wound, 
either or both could have been captured, but while 
I was wondering what I should do they sailed 
off. 
We now had several hours’ hard work, going 
along half way up the mountain, and expecting to 
see goats at every turn. Nothing appeared, how- 
ever, so we climbed down and, although it was late 
in the afternoon and we were tired, Dawson insisted 
on taking us to the end of the valley. As we ap- 
proached the timber came to an end and its place 
was taken by willows growing by little glacial-fed 
streams. Grassy meadows were between these 
