that racket to starve me off; but a hungry man don't stop to listen to speeches when his dinner is callin' out loud for him, so I went up with my mouth full of nails. Very soon I were over the bough, and the screeching and squealing were terrible to listen to." "Didn't the eagles attack you?" "No, sonny! They were jest helpless with laughing!" "Laughing?" "When I threw my leg over the bough, I got the hammer ready to strike, but I seed them shakin' all over, till some of the wing feathers dropped out, and tears were running down their beaks and droppin' off the sharp point of the hook. It was not fear--you never seed a eagle afraid--he couldn't be if he tried--an' I seed at once they were laughin' fit to die. I sot there in a tremble at the unnatural circumstance, and then began to climb till I could look into the nest. Sonny, d'you know what they were laughing at." "The pig in the nest." "Who told you?" "Oh, I just guessed." "Well, I'm blessed! Ghoisters! You never seed a pig in a nest up a tree seven hundred feet high?" "Not that I remember, Abe." "Gum! Yes, sir; there were a pig in that nest. Them birds, sonny, had kept me off till their squabs could fly, and then they played that joke on me. I chucked the pig out, and when I got down he were as dead as bacon. Come to think of it, sonny, it were a kind thought of them eagles to put it up there, and it makes me smile every time to think of the way them birds laughed till they shook their feathers out." The old man fixed his abstracted gaze on a cloud of tobacco smoke. "I hope to train 'em next year," he said, "to keep me in venison and lard. Going? Well, so long!" "So long, Abe!" CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. ABE'S BILLY GOAT. Our Poison Club was in a flourishing condition. During the past year the members had killed off 1,500 red cats, wild dogs, jackals, seven leopards, and 500 baboons. This represented a good round sum--each tail being equivalent to a five-shilling demand on the exchequer of the country--and the chairman had called a meeting to distribute the awards. "I have pleasure in announcing, gentlemen," he said, "that Mr Si Amos is the champion poisoner--having placed to his credit 300 cat tails, seventy-five jackal tails, fifty-four baboon tails, and one leopard tail. In addition to the dues which are rightly his, he is entitled to the silver medal presented by the club." "Well done, Si! Step up!" Silas pulled his lank figure together, hitched up his trousers, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and lumbered up the narrow passage. "Give him pizen!" said someone in a loud voice, whereat there were cries of "Shame!" Silas paused, balanced himself uncertainly on one leg, and searched the audience. "It's that Abe," he said. "What he says don't amount to nothin'." "Mr Pike," expostulated the chairman; "I'm astonished at you."