Our adventurers were congratulating themselves on this unexpected
accession to their larder; which, like the manna of old, had, as it
were, rained down from the sky.
"Our dinner!" shouted Caspar, gleefully, as the "thump" of the falling
ibex sounded in their ears. "Our supper, too," he added. "Ay, more!
In such a large carcass there must be provision to last us for a week!"
All three rose to their feet, and were about starting forward to secure
the prize; when a shrill scream twice repeated fell upon their ears--
coming down apparently from the top of the cliffs, or rather from the
mountain that trended still higher above them.
Could it be the cry of the conquering ibex--his slogan of triumph? No;
it was not his voice, nor that of a quadruped of any kind. Neither did
the spectators for an instant believe it to be so. On turning their
eyes upward, they saw the creature, or the creatures--for there were two
of them--from whose throats those screams had proceeded.
The victorious ibex was still standing conspicuously upon the cliff.
During the few seconds that the attention of the spectators had been
occupied elsewhere, he appeared to have been contemplating the dire deed
of destruction he had just accomplished, and perhaps indulging in the
triumph he had obtained over his unfortunate rival. At all events he
had stepped forward upon the projecting point of the rock--to the very
spot so lately occupied by his adversary.
The cry, however, which had been heard in the valley below had reached
his ears at the same time, and perhaps a little sooner: for as the
spectators looked up, they saw that he had been startled by it, and was
looking around him with evident alarm. In the air above and not many
yards distant from him, were two dark objects, easily recognisable as
birds upon the wing. They were of large size, nearly black in colour,
and with that peculiar sharpness of outline and sweep of wing that
distinguish the true birds of prey. There was no mistaking their kind--
they were eagles--of a species known in the Himalayas and the steppes of
Thibet as the "bearcoot."
They were swooping in short, abrupt curves, at intervals repeating their
shrill screams, both crying out together, and from their excited mien,
and the character of their movements, no doubt could be entertained as
to the object of their noisy demonstrations. They were about to assault
an enemy, and that enemy was no other than the ibex.
The animal appeared to be fully aware of their intent; and seemed for a
moment to be irresolute as to how it should act. Instead of placing
itself in a bold, defiant attitude--such as it had lately assumed
towards an antagonist of its own kind--it stood cowering, and apparently
paralysed with fear. It was this very effect which the eagles, by their
screaming, had designed to produce; and certainly the fierce birds were
succeeding to the utmost of their expectations.
The spectators kept their eyes fixed upon the actors of this new drama--
watching every movement, both of the birds and the beast, with intense
interest. All were desirous of seeing the latter punished for the cruel
act he had just committed, and which they regarded as savouring very
strongly of fratricide.
It was written in the book of fate that their desire should be
gratified, and that the destroyer should himself be destroyed. They
were expecting to witness a somewhat prolonged combat; but in this
expectation they were disappointed. The duration of the conflict was as
brief as the preliminaries that led to it; and these were of the
shortest kind: for scarce ten seconds had elapsed, after they had
uttered their first scream, before the bearcoots swooped down to the
level of the cliff, and commenced a joint attack upon the ibex, striking
at him alternately with beak and claws.
For a short time the quadruped was shrouded--almost hidden--under the
broad, shadowy wings of the birds; but even when its figure could be
traced, it appeared to be making no very energetic efforts at defending
itself. The sudden attack made by such strange enemies seemed to have
completely disconcerted the ibex; and it remained as if still under the
paralysis of fear.
After a moment or two had passed, the ibex appeared to recover
self-possession; and then he, rearing up, struck out with his horns.
But the bearcoots were on the alert; and each time that the animal
attempted a forward movement, they easily avoided the blow by shying to
one side or the other; and then quickly wheeling, they would swoop back
upon it from behind.
In this way was the conflict progressing, the ibex holding the ground
upon which he had been first attacked, turning round and round, with his
two fore hoofs held close together, or else rearing aloft on his
hind-legs, and using them as a pivot.
It would have been better for the ibex had he kept to his fore-feet
altogether; as in that attitude he might have held his ground a little
longer--perhaps until he had either beaten off his winged assailants, or
wearied them out by a prolonged defence.
But to fight on "all fours" did not chance to be his fashion. It was
contrary to the traditions of his family and race--all of whose members,
from time immemorial, had been accustomed, when battling with an enemy,
to stand erect upon their hind-legs.
Following this fashion, he had raised himself to his full perpendicular,
and was about aiming a "butt" against the breast of one of the bearcoots
that was tantalising him in front, when the other, that had made a short
retrocession in order to gain impetus, came swooping back with the
velocity of an arrow, and seizing the ibex under the chin, by a quick,
strong jerk of its talons, it struck the head of the animal so far
backward that it lost its balance, and went toppling over the cliff. In
another instant the ibex was in mid-air--falling--falling--through that
same fearful space that had just been traversed by his own victim.
The spectators looked to see him strike the ground without receiving
further molestation from his winged assailants. Not so, however, did it
result. Just as the ibex had got about half-way down the face of the
precipice, the second eagle was seen shooting after him with the
velocity of a flash of lightning; and before he could reach the ground,
the bearcoot was seen striking him once more, and causing him to diverge
from his vertical descent. The body came to the ground at length--but
at a considerable distance from where the other was lying--the eagle
descending with it to the earth, and even remaining over it with wings
and limbs extended, as if still clutching it in his talons!
Why the bearcoot was thus retaining the ibex in his clutch was not quite
so clear: for the animal was evidently dead; and apparently had been so
long before reaching the earth. There was something strange about this
proceeding on the part of the bird--as there had also been in its mode
of descent through the last forty or fifty yards of space. From the
manner in which it had extended its wings after striking its prey, and
from the way in which it still kept exercising them, the spectators
began to think that its singular descent, and its remaining over the
carcass in that cowering attitude, were neither of them voluntary acts
on its part.
The truth was soon made clear--proving the contrary to be the case: for
as the bearcoot continued to flap its wings, or rather, flutter them in
a violent irregular motion, it became evident that instead of desiring
to remain by the fallen body of its victim, it was doing its very best
to get away from it! This was all the more easily believed, when it
commenced uttering a series of wild screams; not as before indicating
rage or menace, but in tones expressive of the greatest terror!
The spectators, who had already risen from their seats, ran towards the
spot--surmising that there was something amiss.
On getting close up to the still screaming and fluttering bird, they
were able to understand what had appeared so incomprehensible.
They saw that the bearcoot was in a dilemma; that its talons were buried
in the body of the ibex, and so firmly fixed, that with all the strength
of its sinewy legs, backed by the power of its elastic pinions, it was
unable to free itself!
In striking the ibex in his descent, the bird had buried its crooked
claws deeply into the soft abdomen of the animal, but in attempting to
draw them out again, had found--no doubt to its great chagrin--that the
thick coating of "poshm" which covered the skin of the ibex, had become
entangled round its shanks; and the more it fluttered to free itself,
turning round and round in the effort, the stronger and tighter became
the rope which it was twisting out of that celebrated staple--the
shawl-wool of Cashmere!
Beyond a doubt the bearcoot was in a bad fix; and, although it was soon
relieved from its tether of _poshm_, it was only to find itself more
securely tied by a stronger string taken out of the pocket of Ossaroo.
The other bearcoot having followed close after, seemed determined upon
rescuing its mate out of the hands of its captors; and uttering loud
screams, it flew, first at one, then at another of them--with its long
pointed talons menacing each of them in turn.
As all of them had weapons in their hands, they succeeded in keeping the
angry bird at bay, but it might not have fared so well with Fritz--who
in turn became the object of its furious attack, and who had no weapon
but his teeth.
These would scarce have been sufficient protection against the talons of
an eagle; and Fritz would very likely have lost one of his eyes, or
perhaps both of them, had it not been for an arrow springing from the
bow of the shikaree; which, transfixing the great bird right through the
gizzard, brought it down with a "flop" upon the surface of the earth.
It was not killed outright by the arrow; and the dog, on seeing it bite
the dust, would fain have "jumped" it. But perceiving the strong
curving beak and the sharp talons extended towards him, Fritz was easily
persuaded to remain at a prudent distance, and leave the shikaree to
make a finish of the bearcoot with his long boar-spear.