_II.--A PERILOUS ADVENTURE.--(Continued.)_
[Illustration: "WALTER AIMED TWO OR THREE BLOWS AT THE CREATURE'S
BREAST."]
In this dreadful crisis, Walter pressed as hard as he could against the
rocky crag, having but one hand at liberty to defend himself against the
furious attack of the bird. It was quite impossible for him to get at
his axe, and the force with which he was assaulted caused him nearly to
let go his hold. He tried to seize the vulture's throat and strangle it;
but the bird was too active, and made all such attempts perfectly
useless. He could scarcely hope to continue such a dangerous struggle
much longer. He was becoming faint from terror, and his left hand was
fast growing benumbed with grasping the rock. He had almost resigned
himself to his fate, and expected the next moment to be dashed to pieces
on the field of ice beneath. Suddenly, however, he recollected his
pocket-knife, and a new ray of hope dawned. Giving up the attempt to
clutch at the furious bird, he drew the knife out of his pocket, and
opened it with his teeth, and aiming two or three blows at the
creature's breast, he found at last that he had been successful in
reaching some mortal part. The fluttering of the wings ceased, and the
dying bird stained the virgin snow with its blood on the ice-field
below. Walter was saved; there was no other enemy now to fear; his life
was no longer in danger; but his energies were taxed to the utmost, and
it was well for him that the terrible contest had lasted no longer.
Pale, trembling in every limb, and spattered with the vulture's blood as
well as that which trickled from the many wounds he had received, the
valiant young cragsman sank helplessly to the ground, where he lay for
some minutes, paralyzed with the terrible exertion he had gone through.
At length, however, he so far recovered himself as to be able to
continue his fatiguing and dangerous journey, and soon succeeded in
reaching the spot where he had left his jacket, shoes, and alpenstock.
Having gained a place of safety, he poured forth his thanks to God for
delivering him from such great danger, and began to bind up his wounds,
which for the first time were now paining him. When this was
accomplished in a rough and ready sort of way, he had a peep at the
trophies in his bag, whose capture had been attended with such
adventurous danger, and with the aid of his alpenstock succeeded in
getting the dead body of the old bird, which he found had been struck
right to the heart. But his knife he could not recover, so concluded
that he must have dropped it after the deadly encounter.
"That doesn't matter much," said he to himself, as he looked at the size
of the bird. "It is a good exchange; and if I give the stranger the old
bird with the young ones, I dare say he will give me another knife. What
a splendid creature! Fully four feet long, and the wings at least three
yards across. How father will open his eyes when he sees the dead
Lämmergeier--and the Scotch gentleman too!"
Tying the legs of the bird together with cord which he had fortunately
brought, he slung it across his shoulder to balance the weight of the
bag, and then started on his journey across the glacier, the foot of
which he soon reached, and was then within hailing distance of the hotel
where the stranger was residing.
It was a good thing that he had not been kept longer away, for the sun
was beginning to set by the time he reached the valley, and only the
highest peaks were lit up by its departing glory. Tired and hungry,
Walter was thankful to find himself once more at the door of the inn,
where there was the same crowd of travellers, guides, horses, and mules
he had seen in the morning. His appearance had attracted general
attention as he descended the last hill leading to the hotel.
"Why, I declare it's Watty Hirzel!" exclaimed one of the guides. "He was
here this morning, and I declare he's got a young eagle hanging across
his shoulder."
"Say an old vulture, Mohrle, and you'll be nearer the mark," replied the
lad in a cheerful tone and with sparkling eyes; for he felt so proud of
the triumph he had achieved that all fatigue seemed to be forgotten. "An
old vulture, Mohrle, and a splendid fellow into the bargain! I've got
the young ones in my bag here."
"You're a pretty fellow!" said another guide, with a sneer. "I suppose
you mean to tell us that you've killed the old bird and carried off the
young ones?"
"Yes, that is just what I mean to tell you," replied the boy, smiling,
and paying no attention to the sneer of the other. "I've done it all
alone. I took the youngsters out of the nest, and had a regular fight
with the old ones afterward. I brought one of them home; but the other
you will find somewhere in the Urbacht Valley, if you like to go and
look for it."
"I think the lad speaks the truth," said Mohrle, gazing at Walter with
astonishment and respect.--"You've had a long journey, my boy, and
you're covered with blood. Did the old vulture hurt you?"
"Yes, the brute stuck his claws into me, and if I hadn't had a sharp
knife in my pocket, it would have been all over with me. But let me
through, for I want to take the young birds up stairs to a gentleman
here."
Mohrle and the other guides who had surrounded the courageous boy would
gladly have detained him longer to hear all the particulars of his
daring adventure; but he pressed through the crowd, promising to tell
them all about it afterward, and made his way up to the room occupied by
Mr. Seymour, who received him with as much astonishment as the guides
had done.
"There, Sir," exclaimed Walter, as he took the young vultures out of his
bag and placed them on the floor--"there are the birds you wanted; and
here is one of the old ones, which I brought with me from the Engelhorn.
But you must let them have something to eat--the live ones, I mean; for
they've had nothing for nearly a whole day, and are squealing for
hunger."
Mr. Seymour stood for a moment speechless. He was filled with delight at
the sight of the young birds he had so long wished for, but was at the
same time dumfounded at the courage and honor of the young mountaineer.
"Is it possible?" he exclaimed at last. "Have you really ventured to
risk your life, although I told you that I didn't want the birds?"
"Well, Sir, I know you said so; but I saw by your face that you would
like to have them all the same; and so, as you had been so kind to me, I
didn't mind running a little risk to please you, although it was hard
work. So there they are; but you mustn't forget to feed them, or they
will be starved to death before morning."
"Oh, we will take good care that they don't die of hunger," replied Mr.
Seymour, ringing the bell. "I think, as you take such a warm interest in
the welfare of the birds, you must feel rather hungry yourself. So sit
down and have something to eat, and then you can tell me all about your
adventure."
When the waiter came, some raw meat was ordered for the
fledgelings--which were presently safely housed in the stable-yard--and
a good dinner for Walter, who, aided by Mr. Seymour's encouraging
remarks, did justice to a meal the like of which he had never before
seen--a finale which was to him by far the most agreeable part of his
day's work. Then the lad commenced, in simple language, to describe all
that he had gone through, which, while it pleased his host thoroughly,
caused him to feel still greater surprise and admiration at his young
friend's unaffected bravery and presence of mind.
"You have performed a brave and daring action," said he, when Walter had
finished his story. "I should call it a rash and fool-hardy adventure,
had you not been actuated by a noble motive in carrying it out. A
feeling of gratitude inspired you, and therefore God was with you, and
preserved you. But tell me, boy, how is it that you had courage and
resolution enough to expose yourself to such a frightful risk?"
"Well, Sir, I can't say," replied Walter, thoughtfully. "All I know is
that I was determined to do it, and that is enough to help one over a
great many hard things. At the very last, when I was attacked by the
second vulture, and might have been easily thrown down the rocks, the
thought came into my mind that you must and ought to have the birds; and
then I recollected the knife in my pocket, which settled the business.
Yes; that was it, Sir. You had been so generous to me, that I made up my
mind to fight it out; and there's the end of it. I couldn't think of
being ungrateful after so much kindness."
"Well, my lad, you have proved most clearly that you have a thankful
heart and a cool and determined head," said Mr. Seymour, not without
emotion. "Maintain these characteristics, and use them always for good
and noble purposes, and I am sure you will find the end of every
adventure as satisfactory as this has been to-day. I owe you a new knife
and a suit of clothes; for the old vulture that has used you so badly
was not in our bargain this morning. But we will talk about that another
time. You had better go home now, for I think your father will begin to
feel anxious about you, as it is getting late. I will come and see you
in the morning."
Walter left the room in great glee. He stopped a few minutes in the
court-yard to tell the impatient guides what he had gone through, and
then hurried home as fast as he could, where he found his father waiting
for him with some impatience. "Everything is settled, father!" he
exclaimed, as he clasped him round the neck. "We shall get our cow back
again now; for I've got the money, and Neighbor Frieshardt can't keep
her any longer. I've brought it back with me from the Engelhorn."
The peasant could scarce believe the hurried words of the excited boy,
and was afraid his head was turned, until Walter opened the little
cupboard where he had put the money, and laid the two bright gold pieces
on the table. There was no longer any room for doubt; and the poor man's
eyes sparkled with delight as he looked at the sum which was just
sufficient to pay his debt and rescue the cow from the hands of his
neighbor.
"But how did you come by all this money, Watty?" he inquired. "I hope
you have got it fairly and honestly?"
"Yes, quite honestly, father," replied the boy, with an open and
exultant smile.
"Well, tell me-- But no; I must go and get Liesli out of prison without
a moment's delay. Come along with me to Neighbor Frieshardt's, Watty."
Away went the happy pair to the neighboring farm-house; and although
Frieshardt looked sullen and displeased when Toni Hirzel laid the gold
pieces on the table, it was no use for him to offer any resistance; so
he went rather sulkily to the cow-house, and let out the captive animal,
which was followed home by the peasant and his proud son, and got a
capital supper in her old quarters. When this important business was
accomplished, Walter repaired with his father to the little cottage
again, and for the third and last time that day related all the
adventures he had gone through in his hunt for the vulture's nest.
"Thanks be to God that He has watched over you, and brought you safely
home again!" exclaimed the father, who had listened with a beating heart
to his son's story. "It is a great blessing that we have got the money,
for my cousin couldn't lend me any. But now promise me faithfully,
youngster, that you will never go on such a dangerous errand again
without speaking to me about it. It is a perfect miracle that you have
come back alive! We have good reason to be thankful as long as we live
that you didn't miss your footing or get killed by that savage vulture.
But what I wonder most at is that you could muster up the pluck for such
a risky business. It was too dangerous."
"Well, father, I did it for you, and so that we could get poor Liesli
back again," replied the boy. "We could never have got on without the
cow; and as the Scotch gentleman had been so kind to me, I made up my
mind to get the young birds for him, and thought nothing about the
danger I ran, if I could only accomplish my undertaking."
"I am very glad you have been so successful," said his father; "but
never forget that your success is owing altogether to God's help, and
don't forget to thank Him with all your heart for His watchful care."
"I'll be sure not to forget that, father," was the boy's reply. "I know
that the very greatest courage is of no use without God's blessing; and
I prayed for help before I set out, and several times afterward."
"That was right, Watty, my son. Never forget God, and He will always be
with you, and protect you all your life long. And now, good-night, dear
boy."
"Good-night, father," replied Walter, heartily; and both retired to
their humble beds, and were soon wrapped in deep and healthful slumber.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]