A BALD-HEADED EAGLE. 173 
his master’s eye was on him. Soon I knew the dog had 
nipped him, for I heard a rush—and dogs will retreat to- 
ward their masters—which brought Bruin in full view. As 
the distance was greater than I liked,I hesitated to fire, but 
the bear had seen me, and disliking my appearance turned 
to make off; but the brave little cur was at his heels, and as 
T cheered him to the attack, he never lost an opportunity of 
pinching Bruin’s stern, who at length treed to avoid the 
persecuting little pest which hung in his rear, the most de- 
sirable course for me he could have adopted. By the time 
I reached the spot the enemy had gained the first fork, not 
twenty feet overhead, and is it to be wondered at that at 
such a short range, with not a twig to intervene, and with 
a clear view of the quarry’s shoulder, one barrel brought 
him to the ground with no more action in his carcass than 
the usual death struggle? My trophy was not large, but 
well fed, and his hams afforded me, for many a subsequent 
morning, a bonne bouche worthy of a hunter. 
But poor little Prince got into trouble before he reached 
home. As I struck the margin of a river which lay in my 
route, I observed a large bald-headed eagle sailing about. 
_Keeping under the shelter of some brush, I waited for a 
chance. My right-hand barrel I had reloaded with heavy 
shot, and, as the bird passed about seventy yards off, I gave 
him a portion of its contents, which was responded to by 
his immediately reaching the ground with a broken wing. 
Prince, plucky with the issue of his late engagement, made 
a dash at the bird, but caught a Tartar, for he was seized 
by both talons, and, but that I came to the rescue, would 
have been rendered useless for any other purpose than bait- 
ing a wolf-trap. As it was, after I had killed the bird I had 
some difficulty in unloosening its claws, and I doubt if my 
faithful little mongrel had lived to the age of Methuselah, 
he ever would have been induced to tackle another eagle. 
