the moment he put himself in at the door, exclaimed, "Zounds! what's
all this live lumber?" and he stumbled over the goat, who was at that
moment crossing the way. The colonel's spur caught in the goat's curly
beard; the colonel shook his foot, and entangled the spur worse and
worse; the goat struggled and butted; the colonel skated forward on
the polished oak floor, balancing himself with outstretched arms.

The indignant eagle screamed, and, passing by, perched on Heathcock's
shoulders. Too well bred to have recourse to the terrors of his beak,
he scrupled not to scream, and flap his wings about the colonel's
ears. Lady Dashfort, the while, threw herself back in her chair,
laughing, and begging Heathcock's pardon. "Oh, take care of the dog,
my dear colonel!" cried she; "for this kind of dog seizes his enemy by
the back, and shakes him to death." The officers, holding their sides,
laughed and begged--no pardon; while Lord Colambre, the only person
who was not absolutely incapacitated, tried to disentangle the spur,
and to liberate the colonel from the goat, and the goat from the
colonel; an attempt in which he at last succeeded, at the expense of
a considerable portion of the goat's beard. The eagle, however, still
kept his place; and, yet mindful of the wrongs of his insulted friend
the goat, had stretched his wings to give another buffet. Count
O'Halloran entered; and the bird, quitting his prey, flew down to
greet his master. The count was a fine old military-looking gentleman,
fresh from fishing: his fishing accoutrements hanging carelessly
about him, he advanced, unembarrassed, to Lady Dashfort; and received
his other guests with a mixture of military ease and gentlemanlike
dignity.

Without adverting to the awkward and ridiculous situation in which he
had found poor Heathcock, he apologized in general for his troublesome