BULLER.
What? A dog? A Fox?
NORTH.
No—no—no. An Eagle—the Golden Eagle from Ben-Slarive, known—no mistaking him—to generations of Shepherds for a hundred years.
BULLER.
Do you see him?
NORTH.
Now I do. I see his eyes—for he came—he comes sughing close by me—and there he shoots up in terror a thousand feet into the sky.
BULLER.
I did not know the Bird was so timid—