"One does not fall, when one does not think of it!" said Rudy.

About mid-day, they set out with poles, ladders and ropes; their path
lay through bushes and brambles, over the rolling stones, up, up in
the dark night.

The water rushed beneath them; the water flowed above them and the
humid clouds chased each other in the air. The hunters approached the
steep brink of the rock; it became darker and darker, the rocky walls
almost met; high above them in the narrow fissure the air penetrated
and gave light. Under their feet there was a deep abyss with its
roaring waters.

They all three sat still, awaiting the grey of the morning; then the
eagle would fly out; they must shoot him before they could think of
obtaining the young one. Rudy seemed to be a part of the stone on
which he sat; his rifle placed before him, ready to take aim, his eyes
immoveably fastened on yon high cleft which concealed the eagle's
nest. The three huntsmen waited long.

A crashing, whizzing noise sounded high above them; a large hovering
object darkened the air. Two rifle barrels were aimed as the black
eagle flew from its nest; a shot was heard, the out-spread wings moved
an instant, then the bird slowly sank as if it wished to fill the
entire cliff with its outstretched wings and bury the huntsmen in its
fall. The eagle sank in the deep; the branches of the trees and bushes
cracked, broken by the fall of the bird.

They now displayed their activity; three of the longest ladders were
tied together; they stood them on the farthest point where the foot