The Boy Hunters by Mayne Reid (best love story novels in english TXT) 📕

so as to encircle the throat of his adversary, clutching and holding it like a vice.

This manoeuvre put a period to the contest. The red coils were seen to loosen, then fall off; and, although the reptile still writhed, it was only in its death-struggles. In a few moments its body lay along the grass, powerless and without motion.

The kite after a short rest drew his beak from the jaws of the serpent, raised his head, extended his wings—to assure himself they were free—and, with a scream of triumph, rose upward, the long carcass of the reptile trailing after him like a train!

At this moment another scream reached the ears of the young hunters. It might have passed for the echo of the first, but its tones were wilder and louder. All eyes were turned to the direction whence it came. The boys knew very well what sort of a creature had uttered it, for they had heard such notes before. They knew it was the white-headed eagle.

They caught sight of him the moment they turned. It was not difficult to see him soaring upward—his great tail and broad wings expanded, seven feet in extent, against the light blue sky.

When first seen his flight was nearly in a straight line, slanting up in the direction of the kite—for that was the object that had started him. He was evidently bent upon robbing the latter of his late-gotten booty.

The kite had heard the cry that echoed his own; and, knowing its import, at once plied all the power of his wings to rise higher into the air. He seemed resolved to hold on to his hard-earned plunder; or, at all events, not to yield it, without giving the more powerful robber the trouble of a chase. The fresh remembrance of the peril he had passed through in obtaining it, no doubt stimulated him to this resolve.

Birds of his species will sometimes outfly and escape the eagle—that is, some eagles, for these bird-kings differ in degrees of swiftness as hounds or horses. So, too, do the kites; and the one in question having, no doubt, full confidence in his wings, thought he would make trial of those of his pursuer—who, being personally unknown to him, might be some individual too fat, or too old, or too young, perhaps, to possess full powers of flight. At all events he had made up his mind to have a “fly” for it—believing that if overtaken he could easily put an end to the pursuit by surrendering the snake, as his cousin, the osprey, often has to do with his fish. Up, therefore, he went, in a spiral curve of about fifty yards in diameter.

If the kite entertained the idea that his pursuer was either a very old or young bird, or too fat a bird, or in any way a “slow” bird, he was likely to be soon undeceived. That idea was not shared by those who watched him in his flight. On the contrary, the young hunters thought they had never seen a more splendid specimen of his kind,—of full feather, snow-white head and tail-tip, and broad clean-cut wings. He was one of the largest size, too; which proved him not to be a “him,” but a female—for, strange to say, Nature seems to have reversed her order with these birds—the females being universally brighter in plumage, larger in body, swifter of wing, stronger, and even fiercer than the males. It may be inferred, that in the social life of “eagle-dom” the fair sex have their “rights,” and perhaps a little more. One thing is certain, and it seems to be a consequence of this (in compliment to the sex I say it) that nothing like polygamy is known amongst them. Woe to the eagle husband that would even dream of such a thing!

Voilà! up goes the kite, straining every pinion of his pointed wings—up the spiral curve, screwing himself towards the zenith. Upward follows the eagle, spirally as well, but in wider gyrations that embrace and seem to hold the curvatures of the other within their circumference. Both birds circle concentrically. Now their orbits cross each other—now they are wheeling in parallel curves. Still upward flies the kite—still upward goes the pursuing eagle. Closer and closer they appear to come; narrower grow their soaring circles—but that is because they are more distant and seem so. See! the kite is but a speck, and appears stationary—now he is lost to the view. See! the eagle is but a speck! She, too, disappears! No, not altogether—the little spot like the fragment of a white cloud, or a piece of snow upon the sky—that is her tail-tip. Ha! it is gone too—they are beyond the reach of our vision.

Hark! Ish–sh–ish! Did you hear that sound, like the whistling of a rocket? See! Something has fallen upon the tree-top, breaking several branches! As I live it is the kite! Dead he is, and the blood is spurting from a wound in his shoulder!

Hark, again! Whush–sh–ush! It is the eagle. See! she has the serpent in her talons!

The eagle had shot down from her elevation, though no eye could have followed her in that arrow-like descent. When within two or three hundred yards of the ground, her wings flew out, her tail was spread, and, suddenly lowered, fan-like to its fullest extent, arrested her downward course; and, with a few measured strokes, she glided slowly over the tops of the trees, and alighted on the summit of the dead magnolia.

Basil seized his rifle, with the intention of having a shot. There was not much cover on the ground that encircled the tree where the eagle had perched herself; and the young hunter knew from experience that his only chance of getting near enough was to make his approach upon horseback. He therefore drew the picket that fastened Black Hawk; and, flinging himself upon the horse’s back, rode off among the bushes. He had been gone but a few minutes when a sharp crack was heard, and the eagle was seen tumbling from her perch.

This was the last link in the chain of destruction!