the sun came slowly up--a great crimson ball of fire, the long, yellow
rays lighting up that sea of clouds and the pale-blue sky above, until
the scene looked like a great, boiling pot of gold. Then, far above us,
that immense black bird, wings still outstretched, just winging itself
round and round in great, even circles. I've seen many a choice bit of
mountain scenery, and many a sunrise and sunset, but never one just like
that. It isn't at all strange to me why the savages were nature
worshipers. How could they help it?

"As we sat watching the ever-changing panorama of colored clouds, there
came to our ears, faintly but surely, that same sad call of the night
before. The great eagle paused a moment in his circling--then my heart
came into my mouth, for as we watched he folded his great wings, tipped
his head forward, and began to drop. I held my breath. Down, down he
came. I thought he must surely be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. He
was falling directly toward the great dead spruce, and it seemed that
nothing could save him from being torn to pieces. As suddenly as he had
begun to drop he spread his mighty black wings and swooped down to the
very tree we thought must be his death. He perched for a second on a
dead limb, then flew into a Douglas spruce, emerging in a second with
something in his talons. As he began to rise again, in long, spiral
flights, we heard the cry of distress from the unfortunate bird in his
claws. It was the same cry that we had heard in the night."

"What was the light in the night? Did you ever find out?" ventured Phil.

"O yes, I forgot to tell you. It was Daddy Wright on horseback, swinging
a lantern. He had been to the city, and was returning home. He passed Ben
and his friend and nearly frightened them to death. He was singing as he
came up the road, and was keeping time to his song with the lighted