"Quit that, you silly! you nearly knocked me over that time!" he shouted angrily; his very first thought being that one of the other boys, presumably Davy Jones, because he was so smart about climbing everywhere, had followed after him, and was thus rudely announcing his arrival close on the heels of the first explorer.
But as Step Hen raised his head to look, to his surprise he failed to see any one near him. A dreadful suspicion that Davy might have pitched over the edge of the narrow shelf, after striking him, assailed the scout; and he was almost on the point of looking, when suddenly there was a rush of great wings, and he dropped flat on his face just in time to avoid being struck a second time.
"Whew! eagles, and mad as hops at me for comin' here!" gasped Step Hen, as, raising his head cautiously, like a turtle peeping out of its shell, he caught sight of two wheeling birds that came and went with tremendous speed.
He noted the spread of their immense wings, and it seemed to Step Hen as if in all his experience he had never before gazed upon more powerful birds than those two Rocky Mountain eagles.
Perhaps they had a nest near by, with young eaglets in it, and fancied that he was bent on robbing them. Then again, the big birds may have decided that they could make good use of the fine quarry that had lodged in the rocks so conveniently near their nest; and resented the coming of another claimant.
But no matter what the contributing cause might be, they were undoubtedly as "mad as a wet hen," as Step Hen afterwards declared, in telling of his adventure there on that shelf of rock, fully a hundred feet from the top and the bottom, on the steep face of the mountain.
His first thought was how he could fight back, for he saw that he was to be at the mercy of the great birds that swooped down again and again, striking viciously at him with claws, beaks and powerful wings, until the boy was bleeding in half a dozen different places.
In casting his eyes about, even as he fought with his bare hands, and shouted for assistance at the top of his voice, Step Hen made a little discovery. A tree must have grown up above at one time or other, for there, stuck fast in a crevice of the rock he saw a pretty good-sized remnant of a branch that he believed would make a fair cudgel, better than his bare hands at any rate, with which to strike at the attacking eagles.
When he had clutched this in his eager hand the boy felt more confidence; and watching his opportunity he did manage to meet the swoop of the next bird with a whack that sent it whirling back. But they quickly learned to adopt other tactics, now that he was armed, both of them coming together from opposite directions; so that unable to dodge, or hit back properly Step Hen again found himself getting the worst of the fight.
Would his companions be able to do anything for him; or was he to be left there on that shelf of rock, to either conquer his savage enemies, alone and unaided, or succumb to their ferocious assaults?