A PLEA FOR THE WASTES. 13 



for dinner. We now held a consultation as to the easiest 

 way of approach. Scrambling down a hollow, we were 

 within fifty yards of the eyrie, when a ravine intercepted 

 our progress. I pointed to a little bank of ochre-coloured 

 moss beyond. " That's the place, " whispered Peter. 

 Back we ducked again, over the same ground, and, crawl- 

 ing along the ridge, evaded the ravine. The critical 

 moment of failure or success was now arrived. With my 

 left knee on the bank of moss, and my right foot planted 

 against a rock, to prevent a slip on the steep, my eye 

 fixed on the outer rim of the eyrie, and Peter, mute as a 

 stone but sharp as an arrow, awaiting the signal, I 

 stopped a moment to take breath. A slight nod over my 

 shoulder, and Peter gently struck the palms of his hands 

 together, pat pat. It was just enough for the eagle to 

 hear, but it seemed very loud to me. Pat pat pat, 

 louder and louder. I was now getting very nervous. 

 " Throw a stone at her ! " Peter had too much general- 

 ship for that. He selected a small pebble, and threw it on 

 the steep, directly above the eyrie. I watched every hop 

 of the stone, lower and lower, till I saw that it must drop 

 straight upon our victim. I knew it was now or never. 

 Instantly, I caught sight of the bold flap of a giant wing, 

 and the mighty bird soared majestically from the dizzy 

 chasm. The shot was not difficult. I may say, that my 

 aim was cool and determined. She reeled round and 

 round, and fell headlong into the yawning abyss, quite 

 dead. I now took a long breath, and but for Peter's 

 delighted face, could scarcely persuade myself she had 



