Then he began to cry and shake his head, and he cried louder than there was any need of his doing in reality; for presently the old father of the Eagles, who was away up in the sky, just a mere speck, heard and saw him and came swishing down in a great circle, winding round and round the boy, and the boy looked up and began to cry louder still, as if frightened out of his wits, and finally rolled himself up like a porcupine, and threw himself down into the trail, crying and howling with apparent fear. The Eagle swooped down on him, and tried to grasp him in his talons, and, kopo kopooo, his claws simply slipped off the rawhide coat. Then the Eagle made a fiercer grab at him and grew angry, but his claws would continually slip off, until he tore a rent in the intestine about the boy’s neck, and the blood began to stream over the boy’s coat, making it more slippery than ever. When the Eagle smelt the blood, he thought he had got him, and it made him fiercer than ever; and finally, during his struggling, he got one talon through a stitch in the coat, and he spread out his wings, and flew up, and circled round and round over the point where the young Eagles nest was, when he let go and shook the boy free, and the boy rolled over and over and came down into the nest; but he struck on a great heap of brush, which broke his fall. He lay there quite still, and the old Eagle swooped down and poised himself on a great crag of rock near by, which was his usual perching place.
“There, my children, my little ones,” said he, “I have brought you food. Feast yourselves! Feast yourselves! For that reason I brought it.”
So the little Eagles, who were very awkward, long-legged and short-winged, limped up to the boy and reached out their claws and opened their beaks, ready to strike him in the face. He lay there quite still until they got very near, and then said to them: “Shhsht!” And they tumbled back, being awkward little fellows, and stretched up their necks and looked at him, as Eagles will.
Then the old Eagle said: “Why don’t you eat him? Feast yourselves, my children, feast yourselves!”
So they advanced again, more cautiously this time, and a little more determinedly too; and they reached out their beaks to tear him, and he said: “Shhsht!” and, under his breath, “Don’t eat me!” And they jumped back again.
“What in the world is the matter with you little fools?” said the old Eagle. “Eat him! I can’t stay here any longer; I have to go away and hunt to feed you; but you don’t seem to appreciate my efforts much.” And he lifted his wings, rose into the air, and sailed off to the northward.
Then the two young Eagles began to walk around the boy, and to examine him at all points. Finally they approached his feet and hands.
“Be careful, be careful, don’t eat me! Tell me about what time your mother comes home,” said he, sitting up. “What time does she usually come?”
“Well,” said the little Eagles, “she comes home when the clouds begin to gather and throw their shadow over our nest.” (Really, it was the shadow of the mother Eagle herself that was thrown over the nest.)
“Very well,” said the boy; “what time does your father come home?”