The attack was quickly parried, and now Toby also had a streak of blood on his cheek, where one of those furious wings had struck him.
Now he turned the gun quickly around in his hands.
"Leave one for me, Toby!" pleaded the boy, eagerly. "I ought to have the pleasure of knocking over one of 'em, after what they have done to me. Oh! you put it to that gay old robber of honest fish-hawks, sure you did! And he's gone down below-decks for good. Give me your gun, Toby; I must have it, I tell you!"
And the guide, understanding, as well as sympathizing with, the spirit that caused the other to cry out in this fashion, did thrust his repeating rifle into the hands of Step Hen, after throwing the discharged shell out, and sending a fresh one into the firing chamber.
With a satisfaction that words could never paint, Step Hen followed the swinging form of the remaining eagle as it flew around so as to get in line for another swoop. And just as the great bird started to come down at them, the boy pulled the trigger.
His aim was true, and the second eagle pitched forward, whirling over and over as it went tumbling down the face of the descent, just as its mate had done.
"Hurrah!" shouted Step Hen, tremendously pleased with the final outcome of the fight with the pair of fierce pirates of the upper air currents; "that's what they get for tackling me, ain't it, Toby? We gave 'em what they needed, didn't we? But say, I'm just thinkin' that it's going to be a tough old job for me to get back up where the boys are; and that p'raps we'll have to keep on climbin' down, after shoving the big-horn off the shelf."
And the guide, after recovering his breath, which had been used up in his recent hasty movements in coming to the rescue, looking over the edge, admitted that he believed such a course was the only one left to them.