THE ROBBERS OF THE FALLS 



swirling water, which roared away unceasingly, almost 

 loud enough to drown the angry screams of the hawk, 

 which was now making dashes at my head, sheering 

 off just out of reach. 



But it would not do to stay there longer and lose the 

 golden moments, so I descended, crossed the brook on 

 some projecting rocks, and entered an extensive and 

 beautiful hemlock grove. Within a few rods of the 

 great fall I recalled that there was an old hawk's nest 

 high in a hemlock, which I had examined year by year, 

 hoping to find it again occupied, as hawks often return 

 to their old nest, or else it is taken by other hawks even 

 after the tenement has had years of disuse. Seven 

 springs successively I had looked at it, but I was not 

 hopeless, so long as it held together. This time it 

 certainly looked large and fresh, as though it had been 

 added to. Under it were freshly-broken sticks and 

 one hawk's feather. Though no one answered to my 

 stormy knocks at the door, I went upstairs without 

 invitation, and looking into the airy bedroom I found 

 three plain bluish-white eggs characteristic of the 

 Cooper's Hawk, laid, as is usual with this species, on 

 scales or chunks of hard, rough bark without any other 

 lining to the big stick nest. And now, seeing that the 

 game was up, Mrs. Cooper announced her displeasure 

 by an angry demand as to what business I had up there 

 without her permission — " cack-cack-cack-cack-cack- 

 cack!" "Oh, none at all; your humble servant," I 

 said, meekly descending, when I had looked her home 



36 



