“Yes. I want the nest. I think there are young ones in it—late couple fledged.”
The rocky cliff looked so stern and forbidding, that it seemed as if climbing would be impossible.
“Then we’re going on to that rock on the other side—that tall crag. That’s where the eagles build.”
Max gazed hard at a faint blue mass of crag miles farther, and then turned half doubtingly to his companion.
“Eagles?” he said; “I thought there were none now.”
“But there are. There’s one pair build yonder every year, quite out of reach; but I mean to have a try for them some day. Eh, Scood?”
“Ou ay!” ejaculated the young gillie carelessly; “why no?”
“Are there any other wild things about?”
“Any wild things? plenty: badgers, and otters, and roe deer, and red deer. Look, there’s one right off against the sky on that hill. See?”
“Yes,” cried Max. “I can see that quite plainly.”