“Do you want the child?” I asked.
She turned her tear-stained face upon me with a look of astonishment,
undoubtedly produced by my question.
“Yes, yes!” she cried. “But he is lost!”
“No,” said I with the greatest calmness, “I will get him for you.”
The bird was now far up in the air. I slipped a pebble into my sling,
whirled it about my head, and shot the missile upward.
It caught the eagle just behind the ear and stunned it so that it
stiffened its wings and began to soar gently downward. I had intended
merely to stun it, and now put another pebble in the sling, for use when
I saw the bird was beginning to recover. I, of course, knew it would
never do to kill the bird in the air, for then the force of the fall
from that height would most certainly injure the child severely if it
did not kill it outright.
As the eagle showed signs of returning to consciousness, I sent forth
the other pebble upon its errand of mercy and hit him in exactly the
same place, but upon the other side of his head. This changed his
direction just sufficiently to bring him gradually back, until, at last,
he settled softly down, leaving the child in the very spot from whence
he had taken it. I rushed up and hit him a smart rap on the top of the
head and victory was mine.
It was the telling of this story at other places where I applied for
assistance that caused them to set the dogs upon me, to threaten to
shoot me, or to burn me at the stake.
I mention this incident in my variegated career to show that the brain
of the ordinary mortal is powerless to comprehend the abilities of some
people.
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