“Oh! Fritz is eating something, is he?” said Caspar. “That explains it then. How very stupid of these birds, to fancy they could steal his supper from our valiant Fritz: more especially since he seems to relish it so much himself! Why he takes no notice of them!”
It was quite true that Fritz, up to this time, had scarcely noticed the brace of winged assailants; and their hostile demonstrations had only drawn from him an occasional “yir.” As they swooped nearer, however, and the tips of their wings were “wopped” into his very eyes, the thing was growing unbearable; and Fritz began to lose temper. His “yirs” became more frequent; and once or twice he rose from his squatting attitude, and made a snap at the feathers that were nearest.
For more than five minutes this curious play was kept up between the boar-hound and the birds; and then the episode was brought to a somewhat singular—and in Fritz’s estimation, no doubt—a very unpleasant termination.
From the first commencement of their attack, the two falcons had followed a separate course of action. One appeared to make all its approaches from the front; while the other confined its attacks exclusively to Fritz’s rear. In consequence of these tactics on the part of his assailants, the dog was compelled to defend himself both before and behind: and to do this, it became necessary for him to look “two ways at once.” Now, he would snarl and snap at the assailant in front—anon, he must sieve himself round, and in like manner menace the more cowardly “churk” that was attacking him in the rear. Of the two, however, the latter was the more demonstrative and noisy; and at length, not content with giving Fritz an occasional “wop” with its wing, it had the daring audacity to strike its sharp talons into a part of his posteriors approximate to the seat of honour.
This was something more than canine flesh and blood could bear; and Fritz determined not to submit to it any longer. Dropping the “quid” he had been chewing, he started up on all fours; wheeled suddenly towards the kite that had clawed him; and bounded aloft into the air with the design of clutching it.
But the wary bird had foreseen this action on the part of the quadruped; and, ere the latter could lay a fang upon it, had soared off—far beyond the highest leap that any four-footed creature might accomplish.
Fritz, with a disappointed growl, turned round again to betake himself to his piece of meat; but still more disappointed was his look, when he perceived that the latter was no longer within reach! Churk falcon number one had clawed him over the croup, but churk falcon number two had deprived him of his supper!
The last look Fritz ever had of that piece of ibex venison, was seeing it in the beak of the bird, high up in air, growing smaller by degrees and beautifully less—until it disappeared altogether in the dim distance.