“All this time the old birds were abroad lookin' up a breakfast, I suppose, for thar chicks. 'How disappointed they'll be!' sez I to myself, 'when they come back an' find that the young 'uns have fled the neest, without feathers!'
“I war too sure o' my game, an' too curious about the young baldies, watching them, as they cowered clos't thegither, hissin' an' threatenin' me, to take notice o' anythin' besides. But I war roused by feelin' the hat suddintly snatched from my head, an' at the same time gettin' a scratch acrost the cheek, that sent the blood spurtin' out all over my face. It was from the talon o' the she-eagle, while the ole cock war makin' a confusion o' noises as if he hed jest come all a-strut from the towers o' Babylon. I had grupped one o' the young baldies, but I war only too glad to lot it go an' duck my head under the nest, till the critters were tired threatenin' me, an' guv up the attack. By this time I guv up all thought o' takin' the young eagles. Arter my scratch, I war contented to leave 'em alone, an' no Englishman's gold ked hev bought that brace o' birds. I only waited a bit to rekiver myself, an' then I commenced makin' back-tracks down the tree.
“I hed got 'bout half-way to the place whar the fox-grapes tuck holt o' the cyprus, when I was stopped by a sound far more terrefic than the screech o' the eagles. It was the creakin' an' crashin' o' timber along wi' that unairthly rumblin' ye may hear when the banks o' the Massissippi be a cavin' in, as they war then. I ked see the trees that stood atween me an' the river trimblin' and tossin' about, an' then goin' with a loud swish, an' a plunge, into the fast flowin' current o' the stream. The cyprus itself shook, as if the wind war busy among its branches. I felt a suddint jerk upon it, an' then it righted agin', an' stood steady as a rock. The eagles above screamed wuss than iver, while Zeb Stump below war tremblin' like an aspick.
“I know'd well enough what it all meant, but knowin' didn't give me any great satesfaction, since I believed that in another minit the cyprus mout cave in too! I didn't stay the ten thousanth fraction o' a minit. I hurried to get back to the groun'; an' soon reached the place whar the grape-vine joined on to the cyprus. Thur warn't no grape-vine to be seen. It war clear gone! The tother tree to which its roots had been clingin' had gone into the river, takin' the fox-grape along wi' it. It war that gev the pluck I felt when descendin' fro' the neest. I looked below. The river had changed its channel. Instead o' runnin' twenty yards from the spot, it war surgin' along clost to the cyprus, which in another minit mout topple over, whirl along, and be swallowed in the frothin' water.
“I ked do nuthin' but stay whar I war,—nothin' but wait an' watch,—listenin' to the screamin' o' the eagles,—skeeart like myself,—the hoarse roarin' o' the angry water, an' the crashin' o' the trees, as one arter another fell victims to the flood.”
I was fascinated by this narration. Old Zeb's thoughts, notwithstanding the patois in which they were expressed, had risen to the sublime; and although he paused for some minutes, I made no attempt to interrupt his reflections, but in silence awaited the continuance of his tale.
“Wal, what do ye suppose I did nixt?” asked Zeb.
“Really, I cannot imagine,” I replied, considerably astonished by Old Zeb's abrupt and unexpected question.
“Wal, ye don't suppose I kim down from the tree?”
“I don't see how you could.”