any more time. The eagles would have to be the prize of his
marksmanship, even though he winged them against his will.

* * * * * * *

At the end of that week he told himself that he would have to get
the birds that day, or give up the hunt for them, and devote his
entire time to the gardens. He resolved to spend the whole day in
the neighborhood of Eagle Cliff, as he called it; for get them he
would, then or never, before going back to the presence of his
patient, pathetic, brave little mother.

Accordingly, about five o'clock in the morning, he led the faithful
Keno from his stall, and rode slowly down the dusty road until he
came to a point where the narrow bridlepath branched off the road
and wound upward into the silent woods. Following this path until
it became indistinguishable on a thick carpet of moss and leaves
and coarse fern, he reached the big boulder at last; there he left
Keno safely tied and hidden in a clump of alders. Then he went on,
several rods down the trail, and took up his position directly
across the stream from Eagle Cliff.




CHAPTER III

THE COMBAT ON THE CLIFF