HOW SHASTA HID IN TIME
That fierce approach of Kennebec, sweeping up as from the remote ends
of the hollow world, was a terrible thing to see. Also, when the
sound of it reached Shasta's ears, it was terrible to hear. He knew
that there was only one thing to do, and that he must do it without
an instant's delay--to find some hiding-place where he would be safe
from those awful claws and beak; for Kennebec's anger would have no
bounds when he discovered that the eaglets had been destroyed.
To descend the cliff as he had come up would be impossible for
Shasta, as he was fully aware. Once exposed upon that naked face of
rock, Kennebec would attack him with fury, and, ripping him from his
foothold, dash him down below. He took in his surroundings with a
swift glance. The place was composed entirely of rocks. They were
jagged and splintered by the frosts and tempests of a million years.
They wore a fierce and hungry look, like Kennehec himself. It was
the raw edge of the world.
Shasta lost not a moment. He fled along the tumbled rocks, as the
mountain sheep flee when they are pursued by wolves. He could not
tell where he was going nor where the rocks would end. The instinct
in him was to seek refuge among the trees. Surely upon the other
side of the precipice he would find that the forest climbed! The
forest was his friend, if he could reach it in time. Under the
shelter of the spruces he would be safe. The great eagle could not
reach him there.
But as he fled he heard the whistling rush of those fearful wings.
They were close behind him now--closer and closer! He did not dare
to look. He heard; he felt: that was enough.
Now the storming wings were over him. Beating the air Kennebec
hovered, waiting for the swift downward rush, which, if it reached
Shasta, would be the end. For the moment the air seemed darkened
with the shadow of those wings! Then Kennebec swooped. But even as
he did so Shasta darted suddenly to the left. He had seen an opening
between the rocks, and, with the quickness which only wild animals
possess, had bolted in.
By the tenth part of a second and the tenth part of an inch Kennebec
missed his aim. Instead of the soft body of Shasta, those terrible
claws of his met the hard rock.
For an hour or more he hovered, raging over the spot where Shasta had
disappeared. But if he hoped that the boy would come out, he was
disappointed. Shasta might be half-wolf in his mind, but that did
not make him a fool. On the contrary, his wolf-like instincts taught
him to stay where he was, and to lie low as long as that winged fury
raged overhead.
The place into which he had crept was little more than a crevice
between two enormous rocks, and could certainly not be called a cave.
But, narrow as it was, there was ample room for Shasta's little body;
and settling himself into as comfortable a position as possible, he
was presently asleep. That was part of his wolf-wisdom, learnt he
didn't know how: "When there's nothing else to be done, sleep!"
After a time Kennebec grew tired of hovering over the crevice, so he
settled down on a near pinnacle to watch. Noon came and went. A
burning heat scorched the rocks. It would have been far cooler up in
the high levels of the air. Nevertheless Kennebec chose to sit
stewing on his rock, with the glare of his great eyes fixed on the
spot where Shasta had disappeared. And the glare had a fierce
intensity which seemed as if it were fiercer than even the sun's.
For the hard and cruel light in it meant death to whatever should
come within Kennebec's power to kill.
Late in the afternoon Shasta woke, and peeped out to see if there
were any signs of Kennebec. But the pinnacle upon which the eagle
had taken up his watch was just out of sight, and Shasta could not
see him. In spite of the shade it was very stuffy in the crevice,
and the thirst began to dry Shasta's tongue. He thought of the cool
green trails of the forest, and water sliding under the moss with a
hollow trickle. Now that Kennebec seemed to have gone, it was a
great temptation to slip out and make a bolt for the nearest trees.
Although they were not in sight, he was sure they must be there, just
over the other side of the rocks. Yet, in spite of the temptation,
something told him that it was not safe to go. He could not see
Kennebec, it is true, yet a feeling--the sense that seldom fails to
warn the wild creatures when danger is at hand--told him to remain
where he was. And this obedience to his instinct saved his life.
For though Kennebec was out of sight, he was not gone. There he sat,
on the burning rock, sultry with heat, but even sultrier with anger,
watching and watching with the patience that is born of hate.
It was not until the dusk fell, and the tawny light of sunset faded
from the peaks, that he rose from his perch and flapped heavily away.
When it was quite dark Shasta crept out from his hiding-place and
made his way softly over the rocks. He went slowly, setting his feet
with the utmost care, for he knew that the least sound might betray
his presence, and bring Kennebec's terrible talons upon him, even in
the dark. At last, to his joy, he saw the summits of the spruces
glowing against the stars, and in a few minutes more he was safe
beneath the trees.