“Well, I have; and if it’s not a mile high, it’s high enuf when you’re up aloft, with nothing to keep you from adding your bones to the pile below but an iron spike no bigger’n a nail. I camped out one day at the bottom of the tree, and it was mighty lonesome, when the wind came whisperin’ round the trees, and dark shadows peeped from behin’ the rocks, while up above the she-eagle would hiss at her mate. For about two days they took no heed of me, but the fifth day, when I was sprawling half-way up, with a looped rheim round the tree, the ole she-bird took a squint at me over the nest, and flopped down to the lowest bough, where she watched me under her brows drive in a three-inch nail. Two inches I druv it in, and when I lowered myself for another, she jes’ dropped down, clawing to the tree with her long hooked toes, and yanked that nail out.”
“Abe Pike!”
“Yes, sir; she jes’ grabbed hole of it, give it a wrench, and out it come. Then she fetched a yell loud enough almost to split the tree, and went off. Nex’ mornin’, believe me, there was that nail, and five others, outside the door! Them eagles had fetched them up to give notice it was no good. They’re mighty strong in the beak, is eagles,” said Abe, pouring out the coffee.
“But truth is stronger, eh?”
“That’s so, sonny; you take hole o’ that, and it’ll do you a heap of good. That day I druv in them nails deeper, and they held good, by reason that the ole she-bird had got lockjaw, and sot up there nursin’ her beak, with her red eyes glowing like coals. About the fifth day I were near up, when the ole man dropped a coney’s head, and by luck it took me over the head. Well, you’d hardly believe me when I tell you, that no sooner the ole girl seen this than she gave a hiss, and began scraping out of the nest all the rubbish, bones, and skin, and feathers, and sich. Whew! I tell you I had to scuttle and leave off. Well, next day she were looking out for me, and soon’s I got up dropped a full-grown blue-bok—ker-blung—and if I had not been prepared, would ha’ sent me tumbling. I climbed down, an’ roasted that there bit of venison while the two of them watched. Of course, after that meal I went home, and next mornin’, when I opened the door, blow me! if there weren’t a rock rabbit, fat as butter, jes’ outside. I ate him and stopped at home. Next mornin’ there was a brace of partridges, so I ate ’em, and stayed quiet. Next morning a big hare, an’ I ate him and stayed at home. So on till the eleventh mornin’, when there was only a black cat, with the musk of him smellin’ most awful. Of course, I wasn’t eating any such vermin, but I thought the eagles meant well, and I wasn’t blaming them. I buried that crittur two feet deep, and went hungry to bed. Next mornin’ I was outer the door before I was awake, expecting to fin’ a plump lamb, or maybe a kid or a turkey, but there was nothing, sir, but the smell of that stink eat hanging around most dreadful. Sonny, the feelings of them two eagles had been hurt. They took it as a slight that I hadn’t eaten that skunk, so I sot off to the kloof to explain matters. When I got there the ole he was sailing above the tree, with his claws tucked up, and his head on one side. When he seed me he jes’ fetched a screech like a railway engine divin’ into a tunnel, and then he settled on the tree, where, bymby, he were joined by the ole she. They jest sot there and looked, making no sign to drop anything, so I begun to climb; but they took no notice, and bymby I come to the end of the nails, and the nearest bough was six feet away. I had to give it up that day, leaving them two birds all ruffled up and mighty cold and standoffish. It was hard next mornin’ to find nothing outside the door, and I seed there was nothing left but to finish the job, and catch them young squabs. I went off to the kloof, bitter against the ingratitood of them stingy birds, which were ready to let a human bein’ starve when they had a larder jes’ stuffed with hares and things—and my hares, too! Them birds was waiting for me—throwing their beaks back and screaming like mad, while the squabs in the nest squealed till my head split. They had sense enuf to see I were angry, and they sot up that racket to starve me off; but a hungry man don’t stop to listen to speeches when his dinner is callin’ out loud for him, so I went up with my mouth full of nails. Very soon I were over the bough, and the screeching and squealing were terrible to listen to.”
“Didn’t the eagles attack you?”
“No, sonny! They were jest helpless with laughing!”
“Laughing?”
“When I threw my leg over the bough, I got the hammer ready to strike, but I seed them shakin’ all over, till some of the wing feathers dropped out, and tears were running down their beaks and droppin’ off the sharp point of the hook. It was not fear—you never seed a eagle afraid—he couldn’t be if he tried—an’ I seed at once they were laughin’ fit to die. I sot there in a tremble at the unnatural circumstance, and then began to climb till I could look into the nest. Sonny, d’you know what they were laughing at.”
“The pig in the nest.”