The eagle, apparently contented with his morning's work, leisurely rose and flapped on his way toward a clump of small cotton-woods. At the summit of a small tree he perched, holding the fish under his feet and uttering now some short, shrill cries, which the boys could hear answered from the heap of brush which they saw was the nest prepared by these birds. There were scores of these rude nests scattered along the timber flats. "Let's go and see what they do now," suggested Rob. As they approached they saw the male bird clumsily flap down to the nest, where it dropped the fish. The hen eagle fell upon it with short, savage screams and began to tear it apart. They also saw, now and again bobbing above the rim of the nest, the heads of two young eagles. Rob cast a critical look at the trunk of the tree. "I can climb that tree," said he, at last, "and I have a mind to turn the tables on that old thief up there." He pointed to the male eagle, which was now flapping in short circles above the top of the tree, uttering hoarse cries of anger. "You'd better look out," said John; "old Mother Eagle will pick your eyes out if you're not careful." "I'm not so sure about that," said Rob; "but I'll take care. Anyhow, here goes!" So saying, he threw off his coat and began to ascend the tree, a feat which grew easier as he reached the wide-spreading limbs. In a few minutes he stood almost under the nest. Here he kept his left arm in front of his face and made feints with a piece of branch at the mother eagle, which indeed came dangerously close to him. The boys below began to flop their arms and throw up their coats. At length both of the parent birds, contrary to what might be believed or may have been written regarding them, turned tail like cowards and abandoned their young to their fate. They perched on trees a hundred yards or so distant, and watched to see what would go forward. Rob worked his way on up the tree and peered curiously over the edge of the wretched brush-heap which served as the nest. Here he saw two large, ungainly young birds, not yet able to fly, but able to spit, scratch, and flap their wings. Getting a good foothold on a supporting branch, Rob made several attempts to get hold of the young birds. Finally he succeeded in getting one by the neck, and with a jerk threw it out so that it fell flapping to the ground. Skookie would have killed it at once, but the others stopped him. A few moments later they were owners of both these birds, and Rob had rejoined his companions at the foot of the tree. "I'll tell you what," said he, as he wiped the perspiration from his face; "let's see if we can't make pets of these eagles. We nearly always have more than we can eat, and it's the same sort of food these birds are used to; so why shouldn't we tie them up and keep them around the hut? Maybe they'll scare the crows and ravens away from our fish."