When we had exhausted comment upon the unusual incident, which was the absorbing theme for conversation for the balance of the evening, a good night’s sleep came as relaxation from the exercise of the day.
The morning broke bright and clear and quite cold. Breakfast was soon bolted down. An abomination which Aleck called a pancake was the principal article of our repast. This dish compensated by its size and quantity for what it lacked in other respects. Even Jake, whose digestion might excite the envy of an ostrich, hesitated before tackling a second one. Aleck, seeing his uncertain look, asked him whether he would have another pancake.
“Only a small piece about the size of your foot,” Jake replied.
Having saddled the horses the guide took a course which led along a rocky defile for a considerable distance. While looking up at the red sandstone cliffs, which overhung us, and admiring the contrast their rugged outlines furnished against the clear blue of the sky, I saw a large bald-headed eagle perched upon a commanding eminence. His figure was sharply defined in the clear atmosphere, and although I knew he was quite a distance off, I was somewhat surprised when the guide computed the range at 300 yards at least. I reined up my horse and threw the lines over his head. As Jake saw me alight to take aim, a sort of weary expression came over his face. He was evidently thinking of the coyotes. After carefully sighting the bird and gauging the range according to the estimate I had received, I fired. For several seconds the wings fluttered, as the eagle strove to balance himself on his perch, and then he collapsed in a lifeless mass, a few feet below.
[Illustration: A GLIMPSE OF ROCKY MOUNTAIN SCENERY.]
Having watched the lifeless shape a few seconds, I reloaded the rifle without betraying any signs of emotion or uttering a word. Although my eyes were turned in a different direction, I felt conscious of a penetrating gaze which seemed to go through me like an X-ray and read my inmost thought. Turning to mount my horse, I met the wide-open eyes of Jake staring at me in astonishment. Neither of us said a word for some time, but Jake was thinking, wondering whether it was an accident or a fair exhibition of my skill. The only data he had to work on in drawing his conclusions was the previous bad marksmanship in shooting at the coyotes, and the telling recent shot at the eagle, which I seemed to regard as a matter of course, but I acted the same way when I missed the coyotes.