As they were gazing in awe and admiration at this scenic wonder, Uncle Jeb directed their attention high above them, where the steady flap-flap of a mountain eagle’s wings sounded like the drone of an aeroplane in the distance. A terrific screech broke the quiet as another one approached--evidently its mate. They circled around high above the lake and then disappeared among the crags and fastnesses of mountain forests. “Thar hain’t a bird I know of thet I like to leave alone better ’n an eagle,” said Uncle Jeb with a speculative gesture toward the spot where they had disappeared. “Right nasty customers when they’re cornered, yuh kin depend on thet. Fight to the last ditch fer their young ’uns.” “Where do they nest, Uncle Jeb?” questioned Westy, his interest now thoroughly aroused. “Wa-al,” answered Uncle Jeb, “I reckon yuh cud find out soon enough if yuh set by the lake very long. I’m a-goin’ to warn ye, both of ye, if yuh finds out, steer clear, or yuh’ll git the worst of the bargain.” Uncle Jeb never wasted words and the boys were well aware of it, so did not ply him with idle questioning. They were both burning with curiosity to ask him of Mr. Temple’s visit with him so long ago and the story of the surveyors; but they felt sure now, because of his reticence on the subject, that it must be a matter of confidence, so they left it for some more propitious occasion. So they did not bother him with the whys and wherefores of the habits of the eagles, for they had too much respect for Uncle Jeb’s knowledge of the mountains, its inhabitants and their respective habits. His was a knowledge, so the boys contended, that far surpassed anything one could learn in school. Westy and Artie, following Uncle Jeb around the lake and up the trail on the last lap to the cabin, walked silently and serenely, confident in the superior knowledge of Uncle Jeb Rushmore. CHAPTER XX—WESTY MAKES A DISCOVERY It was well along toward mid-morning, when they came in sight of Uncle Jeb’s picturesque cabin almost hidden among the giant pine trees. It stood there solitary and imposing, bespeaking character, such as only one like he himself could give it. It has often been said that a man’s house is but a reproduction of his life, and nothing more true could be said of Uncle Jeb’s wilderness cabin. The door was bolted from the outside to keep away intruders of the forest, but always open to the weary stranger. As Uncle Jeb opened the door, the boys could see at once that the place was meticulously clean, notwithstanding its long state of unoccupancy.