Boy Scouts of America -- Juvenile fiction; Rocky Mountains -- Juvenile fiction
“Yeah, so do I,” answered Artie. “How can it be done, I ask you? Besides
being dangerous, I don’t think that Mother and Father Eagle would
appreciate our heroic efforts to do a good turn for their progeny,
should they happen to return in the meantime. Also, young Eaglet may not
possess a sense of gratitude if he’s still alive and kicking when we get
there.”
“Granting what you say is true,” said Westy seriously, “if we are to
live up to the scout ideal we’ll have to take a chance, just so we can
relieve that poor wounded creature of its suffering. Certainly it must
be in agony the way it screamed! Another thing,” he continued, as if by
way of explaining the feasibility of his plan, “there are two of us, and
while one rescues the bird the other can be on the lookout for the older
birds’ return.”
“If you ask me which I’d rather do,” said Artie with mock-seriousness,
“I can tell you without a moment’s hesitation.”
“This isn’t any time for fooling, Art!” pleaded Westy, craving action.
“We’ve got to act, not talk.”
“I got you the first time!” Artie answered good-naturedly; then: “I’ll
rescue the bird providing you act as lookout!”
“Well said!” replied Westy. “We’ll step on it first and talk afterwards.
Suppose we paddle across and save time?”
“Whatever you say, big boy!”
They paddled swiftly across the lake and landed almost at the foot of
the trail to the cliff. Westy jumped out first and just as though it
were agreed between them, led the way.
The trails to both cliffs were the same, going straight up from the lake
like a stairway. They hurried along silently, stumbling over the loose
rocks and underbrush that was more pronounced on this trail, being
rarely trod upon.
Here and there, Westy noticed with his discerning eye that some one
lately, perhaps even the day before, had been walking up there also and
descended the same way. A twig here and there had been snapped off and
trampled underfoot as if in leisurely contemplation. Who, thought Westy,
would be using that trail, and for what purpose? Then he reminded
himself that it wasn’t the time to be speculating on anything but the
real object of their own presence on that forbidden trail. He deferred
then to say anything to Artie of his discovery until later.
Artie, however, had not missed anything either, but kept silent and
stumbled after Westy in a state of thrilled expectancy.
Approaching the edge of the cliff quite cautiously, they looked, first
above and then around them. Then on their hands and knees they crawled
over the jagged rocks. At last peering over the edge into the hollow,
Westy could see the bird lying prone. Even with his inexperienced eye he
could tell that it was a very young bird, but yet enormous. Artie was
also looking and thinking the same thing. About to say so to Westy, he
turned to find a very dubious expression on that young man’s face.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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