tant Hervey knew. It seemed incredible that the great
bird, hovering at that dizzy height, could have seen the little
songster of the woods which even he and Tom had failed to see. And the
thought of that smaller bird reaching its home just in time, and poking
its head out of the opening to see if all was well, went to Hervey's
heart and stirred a sudden anger within him.

"I didn't know they could see all that distance," he said.

"Well, that's one thing you've learned that you didn't know before," Tom
said in his matter-of-fact way.

Scarcely had he spoken the words when the foliage above shook and there
was a loud rustling and crackling of branches, while many leaves and
twigs fell to the ground.

The monarch of the mountain crags, having circled the elm, had found a
way in where the foliage was least dense, and had thus with irresistible
power carried the outer defenses of that little hanging citadel.

And still the little streak of red showed up there in the dimness of
those invaded branches, and one might have fancied it to be the colors
of the besieged victim, flaunting still in a kind of hopeless defiance.
Down out of the green twilight above floated a feather, then
another--trifling losses of the conqueror in his triumphal entry.

"You're not going to get away with that," said Hervey in a voice tense
with wrath and grim determination; "you're--you're--not----"

What happened then happened so quickly as almost to rival the descent of
the destroyer in lightning movement. Before Tom Slade realized what had
happened, there was Hervey's khaki jacket on the ground, his discarded
hat was blowing away, and his navy blue scout scarf was plastered by the
freshening breeze flat against the trunk of the tree.

Hervey Willetts, who had dreamed and striven all through the vacation
season of "capturing the Eagle," as they say, was on his quest in dead
earnest.

CHAPTER VIII

EAGLE AND SCOUT

Up, up, he went, now reaching like a monkey, now wriggling like a snake.
Now he loosed one hand to sweep back the hair which fell over his
forehead. Again, unable to release his hold, he threw his head back to
shake away the annoying locks. Tom Slade, stolid though he was, watched
him, thrilled with amazement and admiration.

The great bird was embarrassed in the confines of the foliage by its big
wings. But the freedom and strength of its cruel beak and talons were
unimpaired and every second brought it nearer to th