about Malachi? A little of this, a little of that, a drink here, a game
of euchre there, a ride after cattle, a hunt behind Guidon Hill!--But
what is that? You have heard the cry of the eagle, you have seen him
carry off a lamb, you have had a pot-shot at him, but what do you know of
the eagle's nest? Mais non.

"The lamb is one thing, the nest is another. You don't know the eagle
till you've been there. And you, Gohawk, would not understand, if you saw
the nest. Such cancan!"

"Shut your mouth!" broke out Gohawk. "D'ye think I'm going to stand
your--"

Freddy Tarlton laid a hand on his arm. "Keep quiet, Gohawk. What good
will it do?" Then he said, "Tell us about the nest, Pierre; they're
hanging him for the lamb in the morning."

"Who spoke for him at the trial?" Pierre asked.

"I did," said Tarlton. "I spoke as well as I could, but the game was dead
against him from the start. The sheriff was popular, and young;
young--that was the thing; handsome too, and the women, of course! It was
sure from the start; besides, Malachi would say nothing--didn't seem to
care."

"No, not to care," mused Pierre. "What did you say for him to the jury--I
mean the devil of a thing to make them sit up and think, 'Poor
Malachi!'--like that."

"Best speech y'ever heard," Gohawk interjected; "just emptied the words