Dick went off at once to his own part of the camp to replenish his powder-horn and bullet-pouch, and wipe out his rifle. That evening the party, under command of a Canadian named Pierre, set out for the Blue Hills. They numbered twenty men, and expected to be absent three days, for they merely went to reconnoitre, not to trap. Neither Joe nor Henri was of this party, both having been out hunting when it was organized; but Crusoe and Charlie were, of course. Pierre, although a brave and trusty man, was of a sour, angry disposition, and not a favourite with Dick; but the latter resolved to enjoy himself, and disregard his sulky comrade. Being so well mounted, he not unfrequently shot far ahead of his companions, despite their warnings that he ran great risk by so doing. On one of these occasions he and Crusoe witnessed a very singular fight, which is worthy of record. Dick had felt a little wilder in spirit that morning than usual, and on coming to a pretty open plain he gave the rein to Charlie, and with an "_Adieu, mes camarade_," he was out of sight in a few minutes. He rode on several miles in advance without checking speed, and then came to a wood where rapid motion was inconvenient; so he pulled up, and, dismounting, tied Charlie to a tree, while he sauntered on a short way on foot. On coming to the edge of a small plain he observed two large birds engaged in mortal conflict. Crusoe observed them too, and would soon have put an end to the fight had Dick not checked him. Creeping as close to the belligerents as possible, he found that one was a wild turkey-cock, the other a white-headed eagle. These two stood with their heads down and all their feathers bristling for a moment; then they dashed at each other, and struck fiercely with their spurs, as our domestic cocks do, but neither fell, and the fight was continued for about five minutes without apparent advantage on either side. Dick now observed that, from the uncertainty of its motions, the turkey-cock was blind, a discovery which caused a throb of compunction to enter his breast for standing and looking on, so he ran forward. The eagle saw him instantly, and tried to fly away, but was unable from exhaustion. "At him, Crusoe," cried Dick, whose sympathies all lay with the other bird. Crusoe went forward at a bound, and was met by a peck between the eyes that would have turned most dogs; but Crusoe only winked, and the next moment the eagle's career was ended. Dick found that the turkey-cock was quite blind, the eagle having thrust out both its eyes, so, in mercy, he put an end to its sufferings. The fight had evidently been a long and severe one, for the grass all round the spot, for about twenty yards, was beaten to the ground, and covered with the blood and feathers of the fierce combatants. Meditating on the fight which he had just witnessed, Dick returned towards the spot where he had left Charlie, when he suddenly missed Crusoe from his side.