On hands and knees, the boy made slow progress, for the ledge kept getting narrower the further he proceeded. He knew that he must not continue until it would be a difficult job for him to turn around when he wished to retreat. Yet there was always the spur of hope goading him to keep creeping just a little further. He fancied that the surface of the precipice was not quite as smooth over this way, and had almost made up his mind that if he did attempt the risky descent it must be in this quarter.
Then that shadow flickered past him again. Of course, it was the eagle winging its way through space. Gus fancied that the great bird must have become curious about his presence there. Perhaps it had a nest back of some crag not far away, and might take a notion that this cliff climber was a venturesome egg hunter trying to rob its mate of the contents of his retreat.
This thought caused Gus to bring his forward progress to a sudden halt. He even turned his head to see what the eagle might be up to, and counted himself fortunate in so doing, for it gave him a chance to drop flat on his face, and thus escape being struck by the swooping bird.
“Here, get out, hang you!” shouted the now alarmed boy as he realized that in some way his actions were extremely objectionable to the eagle, which had started to make war upon him. “Don’t be a fool! I’m not after your nest this trip. Why, I wouldn’t give a snap for all the eagle’s eggs this side—whew! there he comes at me again. Seems like my troubles have only begun. And this ledge is mighty narrow over here!”
Again he flattened himself out, and only in time to miss connection with the passing bird. He could feel the wind made by those broad pinions as they swept through space just above him, and he shuddered to imagine what was likely to happen should he be struck fairly and squarely by such a heavy object.
The boy no longer thought of pushing on. His one desire now was to crawl back and reach a spot where the ledge, being wider, offered him better opportunities for defending himself, should the angry eagle persist in his attack.
Three other times did he have to duck and narrowly escape disaster before he arrived at the spot where his rope lay. An idea had come into his head, of which he hastened to avail himself. Quickly clutching the rope, he passed it around his body and then managed to slip a fold over a friendly knob of stone that projected from the hard face of the wall back of him.
In this way he fancied that he had insured himself against a sudden shove into space, should the eagle manage to strike him with its wing in swooping past. He also picked up a loose rock which he meant to use as a means of defense. If, by some lucky blow, he could disable that great bird, it would be to his advantage.
The next time an attack came, the boy struck out, for the first time taking the aggressive. He felt a shock that almost knocked all the breath from his body; but it gave him a keen sense of satisfaction to know that he had returned the blow of the eagle after a fashion, though his shoulder where that powerful pinion had struck home ached as though it had been broken.
How long could he hold out against the furious bird that was rapidly losing all sense of caution? Gus must have been a sight to have made his mother almost faint, could she have seen him. His nose had stopped bleeding, but there were gory marks in evidence all over his face. His cheek was more or less puffed up as the result of a glancing blow from the wing of the eagle at the time its full force descended upon his shoulder. Still, he was game to the core. With teeth tightly clenched and eyes blazing with excitement, he crouched there awaiting the next move of the attacking bird of prey.