Pecking, clawing, and striking stunning blows with her terrible wings, the big bird beat the air in front of Williams’s face, holding her position and tearing savagely at the head and face of the would be despoiler of her home. Her screams were incessant. Meanwhile, on top of the cliff, there was utter consternation. The attention of one man was necessarily taken up with the rope, and a slip on his part meant instant death to Williams in the way of a fall to the rocks at the foot of the precipice. With a rifle in his hand the other man watched that nightmare fight in mid air, far below him. He could not shoot without endangering Williams even more than the eagle. Just then things were going very badly with the nest-robber. Blood was flowing from a dozen cuts on his head and face, his hand was lacerated, the clothing about his shoulders was cut into ribbons. Moreover, he was half stunned, and but for the loop in the end of the rope would have fallen to his death. He had no time to give directions to his comrades, and simply had to fight the battle out alone. [Illustration: MR. WILLIAMS AFTER HIS ENCOUNTER WITH THE EAGLE. _From a Photograph._] Presently the old bird darted away, preparing for another swoop at the defenceless man. When she was ten feet distant a rifle-shot rang out from the top of the cliff, and Williams knew his friends were doing what they could. But the old bird did not falter for a second, although a couple of feathers from her terrible right wing floated away on the wind. In his haste to send a second bullet downward the man with the rifle managed to “jam” the weapon, and with a despairing cry threw the now useless weapon to the ground. The eagle returned to the attack with even greater fury, and for a few minutes Williams thought his last moments had arrived. But still he fought on, pulling great handfuls of feathers from the bird and beating at her desperately with his bare fist, receiving in return many cuts and slashes, as well as stunning blows from the madly-flapping wings. He was almost ready to loose his hold on the rope and go crashing down to the bottom of the canyon when the eagle suddenly wheeled away for another attack. As she came back again, screaming and beating the air, something the size of Williams’s head struck her on the back, and down she went like a stone, whirling over and over. Williams’s friend above had hurled a small rock at the bird, and, luckily for Williams, the boulder had struck her fairly on the back, between the immense wings. “Hold on tight and we’ll let you down to the bottom,” sang out the man at the top of the cliff, leaning far over. Then Williams showed the sterling stuff of which he was made. Though bleeding from a dozen wounds, breathless and exhausted, he was still determined to fulfil his errand. “Hold me here until I get these little birds,” he shouted, feebly. “I came after them, and I’m going to have them.”