a sharp and
unmistakable warning. It always ended the same way. Ismaques, being
wise, would drop his fish, and the eagle would swoop down after it,
often seizing it ere it reached the water. But he never injured the
fishhawks, and he never disturbed the nest. So they got along well
enough together. Cheplahgan had a bite of fish now and then in his own
high-handed way; and honest Ismaques, who never went long hungry, made
the best of a bad situation. Which shows that fishing has also taught
him patience, and a wise philosophy of living.

The jays took no part in these struggles. Occasionally they cried out a
sharp warning as Cheplahgan came plunging down out of the blue, over the
head of Ismaques; but they seemed to know perfectly how the unequal
contest must end, and they always had a deal of jabber among themselves
over it, the meaning of which I could never make out.

As for myself, I am sure that Deedeeaskh could never make up his mind
what to think of me. At first, when I came, he would cry out a danger
note that brought the fishhawks circling over their nest, looking down
into the underbrush with wild yellow eyes to see what danger threatened.
But after I had hidden myself away a few times, and made no motion to
disturb either the nest or the hungry prowlers that came to feast on
the fishhawks' bounty, Deedeeaskh set me down as an idle, harmless
creature who would, nevertheless, bear watching. He never got over his
curiosity to know what brought me there. Sometimes, when I thought him
far away, I would find him suddenly on a branch just over my head,
looking down at me intently. When I went away he would follow me,
whistling, to my canoe; but he never called the fishhawks again, unless
some unusual action of mine aroused his suspicion; and after one look
they would circle away, as if they knew they had nothing to fear. They
had seen me fishing so often that they thought they understood me,
undoubtedly.

There was one curious habit of these birds that I had never noticed
before. Occasionally, when the weather threatened a change, or when the
birds and their little ones had fed full, Ismaques would mount up to an
enormous altitude, where he would sail about in slow circles, his broad
vans steady to the breeze, as if he were an ordinary hen hawk, enjoying
himself and contemplating the world from an indifferent distance.
Suddenly, with one clear, sharp whistle to announce his intention,
he would drop like a plummet