The pinions of the creature beat hard but with quick irregular strokes which failed to sustain the body, and down, down it came, striking ground heavily almost at the boy's feet.
The instinct of the chase welled up in the lad and he stretched out a hand to seize, but the bird sprang upwards from the ground, dealt him a blow in the face with its powerful wing and threw him headlong. At the same time, it cluttered away through the bushes.
Thoroughly roused, now, Horace dived into the undergrowth after the bird. The huge creature turned and faced him, with a vicious croak.
A flash from one of the guns of Fort Embourg lighted up the scene.
Boy and bird faced each other, and, when he saw his opponent, the lad's pulse beat quick and high.
It was an eagle, a black eagle from the forest of Germany!
Was it a symbol? Was this a personification of the ravening invader?
He, Horace, had seen the first boy victim of the war; he, Horace, would make the first prisoner. He set his determination to the task.
The baleful amber eyes followed the boy as he maneuvered round in the deepening dark. Horace feared for his face, for he knew that the eagle's method of attack would be an endeavor to peck his eyes out. In the faint light that remained, the bird's wings gave it the advantage, even though the fluttering fall suggested injury.