The eagle dropped not far from the summit; and the boys, running down to the spot, found it lying quite dead, with the little klipspringer—also dead of course—still fast in its claws. The talons sunk deeply into the flesh, embraced the spine, and even in death the fierce bird had not relaxed its hold!
Some would have considered the death of the eagle a just punishment; but, then, what was its crime? It is true, it had killed, and would have carried away, the little fawn of an innocent antelope—one of the most harmless of creatures. But what else could it have done? Nature had taught it to sustain itself in this way. Perhaps it had a nest on the brow of some beetling precipice—for this vulture-eagle of South Africa is a dweller upon rocks, and not a tree-eagle—perhaps in this nest it had a pair of downy little eaglets, each with an appetite like that of an ostrich—perhaps they were expecting that very kid, or some similar dish, for dinner; and would have been very hungry without it—might have died of hunger? What, then, could the parent bird do but provide them, though at the expense of other parents just as much attached to their offspring as an eagle could be? How can it be regarded as a crime? The eagle did not wantonly destroy the antelope, but to satisfy the cravings of hunger. It only obeyed one of the laws of Nature.
Cruel laws they do seem; yet, if they be crimes, Nature herself is answerable. Alas! we cannot comprehend, and, I fear, in this life never will comprehend, why we, the creatures of the earth, are born to prey upon one another. A puzzle to the humane heart is that “chain of destruction.”
Wanton killing of animals is a crime; and our hunters, at first sight, might be thought chargeable with this in having wantonly shot down the eagle. Such was not the case, however. They did not do so out of any feeling of wantonness. They had a proper object in shooting the bird. It was the representative of a rare and little-known species, and the possession of its skin for scientific purposes had something to do with the fatal aim that brought it down—for it was from the double-barrel of the naturalist the shot was sent that destroyed it.
By the act the klipspringers had been avenged, though there was little idea of giving them vengeance in the minds of the young hunters. Quite the contrary; for in five minutes after, the whole six—buck-dogs and all—were in full chase after these creatures, as ready to rob them of their lives as they had been to take away that of their winged enemy.
Nor was it out of wantonness either, or the mere love of hunting, though that might have been the principal motive with one or two of the party. But there was a curiosity about these little antelopes, and a desire to examine them more closely, that urged the young yägers to attempt their destruction. They desired to possess their trophies.
You may wonder why they should care about the horns of a klipspringer, since it is not one of the rare antelopes within the boundaries of the settlements! True, the animal itself is not rare; but it is a rare occurrence, when one falls before the bullet of the hunter—as the klipspringer is as shy and wary as the chamois itself—and, dwelling in the most inaccessible places, it is difficult game to capture. Hence, the killing of a klipspringer is regarded in the light of a feat, and its little horns are by no means an ordinary trophy.
The young yägers, therefore, wanted the pair belonging to the buck that was now leaping over the rocks below.
Some minutes were spent in deliberating as to what would be the best mode of getting possession of them.
At the report of the guns both the klipspringers had gone farther down the mountains, and were now standing upon a large boulder near its base.