THE O. & O. SEMI-ANNUAL. 19 
From the top I looked over. There were no eggs, but two 
downy young, scarcely two days old. I got the young by means 
of a rope, and shot the old bird. By this time it had grown quite 
dark, and I was several miles from a house. There was nothing 
left but to spend the night on top of that lonely mountain. I 
gathered together a large pile of dry cedar wood and built a fire, 
with the intention of keeping it burning all night, as the night air 
was quite chilly and nothing to protect me from the cold but my 
overcoat. I put my birds close to my head to keep the wildcats 
and wolves from carrying them away and laid myself down to 
sleep. The silence of the night was broken at intervals by the 
dismal howling of wolves and hooting of owls. Now and then 
I would have to replenish my fire. 
Through the last half of the night I was brought to my feet 
rather hurriedly. Some wolves had gathered in a little hollow 
which was not more than So yards away. They made themselves 
known by a succession of yells that echoed from hill to hill. I 
could have discharged my gun, but thought I would not waste the 
charge, and in case they ventured too near I would try and mark 
one down.. 
The rest of the night was spent in about the same manner, 
with an eager desire for morning. I had looked along the brow 
of the hill to the east for hours, that I might see that faint, yellow 
line along the horizon and welcome the approaching day. Long 
before sunrise, with my eagle under my arm, an eagle in each 
of my overcoat pockets and my gun over my shoulder, I started 
for my breakfast. The memory of the nest and the taking of the 
eagles is still fresh on my mind, while the bird is mounted with 
full spread of wings and holds its place in my museum room as 
the largest of its kind there. 
I might add that I took a beautiful set of two eggs from the 
same nest last spring, on the same day I visited a place known as 
‘Eagle Rock.” I saw the nest so far up its rugged sides that it 
appeared only a speck against the rock. My companion and my- 
self were riding true mountain horses and by circuitous riding we 
at length halted and tied our horses to the last pine tree that grew 
on that side of the mountain. We had avoided the cliff itself and 
ridden around and made half of the ascent, but still the nest was 
200 yards from where we stood and fully 150 feet higher. I 
looked at the nest, its elevation, and turning to my companion, 
