"Fritz, did you see in that downfall of the British enemy, and the dramatic appearance of a Yankee eagle in his place, anything significant?" "By gad," cried another airman, "we had John Bull by his fat throat, and were choking him to death. And now--the Americans!" "If I dared cross the border and shoot that Yankee eagle to-morrow," began another airman; but they all knew it wouldn't do. One said: "Do you suppose, Von Dresslin, that the bird we see is the one you saw a year ago?" "It is possible." "An American white-headed eagle?" "I feel quite sure of it." "Their national bird," said the same airman who had expressed a desire to shoot it. "How could an American eagle get here?" inquired another man. "By way of Asia, probably." "By gad! A long flight!" Dresslin nodded: "An omen, perhaps, that we may also have to face the Yankee on our Eastern front." "The swine!" growled several. Von Dresslin assented absently to the epithet. But his thoughts were busy elsewhere, his mind preoccupied by a theory which, Hunlike, he, for the last ten days, had been slowly, doggedly, methodically developing. It was this: Assuming that the bird really was an American eagle, the problem presented itself very clearly--from where had it come? This answered itself; it came from America, its habitat. Which answer, of course, suggested a second problem; HOW did it arrive? Several theories presented themselves: 1st. The eagle might have reached Asia from Alaska and so made its way westward as far as the Alps of Switzerland. 2nd. It may have escaped from some public European zoological collection. 3rd. It may have been owned privately and, on account of the scarcity of food in Europe, liberated by its owner. 4th. It MIGHT have been owned by the Englishman whose plane Von Dresslin had destroyed. And now Von Dresslin was patiently, diligently developing this theory: If it had been owned by the unknown Englishman whose plane had crashed a year ago in Les Errues forest, then the bird was undoubtedly his mascot, carried with him in his flights, doubtless a tame eagle. Probably when the plane fell the bird took wing, which accounted for its sudden appearance in mid-air. Probably, also, it had been taught to follow its master; and, indeed, had followed in one superb plunge earthward in the wake of a dead man in a stricken plane. But--WAS this the same bird? For argument, suppose it was. Then why did it still hang over Les Errues? Affection for a dead master? Only a dog could possibly show such devotion, such constancy. And besides, birds are incapable of affection. They only know where to go for kind treatment and security. And tamed birds, even those species domesticated for centuries, know only one impulse that draws them toward any human protector--the desire for food.