The Boy Hunters Part 9

The eagle had shot down from her elevation, though no eye could have followed her in that arrow-like descent. When within two or three hundred yards of the ground, her wings flew out, her tail was spread, and, suddenly lowered, fan-like to its fullest extent, arrested her downward course; and, with a few measured strokes, she glided slowly over the tops of the trees, and alighted on the summit of the dead magnolia.

Basil seized his rifle, with the intention of having a shot. There was not much cover on the ground that encircled the tree where the eagle had perched herself; and the young hunter knew from experience that his only chance of getting near enough was to make his approach upon horseback.

He therefore drew the picket that fastened Black Hawk; and, flinging himself upon the horse's back, rode off among the bushes. He had been gone but a few minutes when a sharp crack was heard, and the eagle was seen tumbling from her perch.

This was the last link in the _chain of destruction_!

CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE WHITE-HEADED EAGLE.

Basil returned, bringing with him the great bird. It was a female--as Lucien knew--and one of the largest, being over twelve pounds in weight, and measuring seven feet between the tips of the wings when expanded.

The bird of this species rarely exceeds eight pounds in weight, and is proportionately small in other respects.

The white-headed eagle (_Falco leucocephalus_), or "bald eagle," as he is generally called because his white head gives him somewhat of a bald appearance--has been adopted by the United States as the emblem of their Republic. If his disposition be considered, he would be a more fit emblem for a band of robbers--for a more absolute robber and tyrant does not exist among the feathered races. He robs the osprey of his fish, and the vulture of his carrion; in short, lords it over every creature weaker than himself. Now this is not the character of the nation he represents--far from it. It is true they have shown a desire to extend their territory, and have made conquests to this end. But what is the motive of these conquests? Is it to enslave and render tribute? No.

They conquer not _to enslave_, but to _make free_! There are two motives for Anglo-American--I may say Anglo-Saxon, conquest, for _true_ Englishmen feel these motives as much as Americans do. They wish to bring the whole world under a liberal form of government--one that will bear the scrutiny of reason--one that in time may extinguish crime, and render poverty a thing of the past--one that is not a patent usurpation and a robbery--a robbery perhaps more criminal in the eyes of G.o.d than waylaying on the highroad, or piracy on the high seas--more criminal, because more extensive in its fatal effects. Anglo-Saxons wish to destroy despotism, lest they or their descendants might again become what their ancestors once were--its victims. This, then, is one motive of their conquests, and it is nothing more than the naked instinct of self-preservation. But there is another motive--a n.o.bler and more generous one. They have drunk from the cup of Liberty--the draught has pleased them, has given them happiness and joy; and, urged by that better part of our nature, they wish to share that sweet cup--ample for all--_with all men_. This is the true motive of the conquest of civilisation; and under the banner of such a cause, it is a question whether war and anarchy and confusion be not preferable to the deceptive peace and _apparent_ prosperity of despotism, that, like the death-dealing vampire, soothes while it destroys.

I do not say that _all_ Americans nor _all_ Englishmen are ent.i.tled to the glory of such a holy motive for conquest. No. Too large a proportion, alas! are actuated only by the ign.o.ble idea of selfish or national aggrandis.e.m.e.nt. The robber is often found in the same camp, and fighting under the same banner, with the soldier of Freedom. It is not strange, therefore, that the _true_ sons of Liberty should sometimes be a.s.sociated with its _b.a.s.t.a.r.d_ children of the shackle and the whip.

But, I shall not weary you with any more political science. Not that I consider it of small importance to you. On the contrary, I deem that science the _most important of all others that have ever occupied the attention of men_. Its influence extends to almost every object around you. It shapes the carriage in which you ride, and the ship in which you sail. Its knowledge modifies the nature of your soul, and decides whether you shall be a slave or a freeman. It even extends to the form of your body, giving it the abject att.i.tude and gloomy aspect of slavery and guilt, or the bold, upright carriage and joyous look of virtue, which G.o.d gave to the first man when He made him after His own image.

But come, boy reader! I have promised not to weary you with these things. Such teachings I must reserve for a future opportunity; when, G.o.d willing, I shall present them to intellects older than yours.

Perhaps you yourselves may then be old enough to take an interest in them; and if so, you may learn some truths that for long years have been the study of your friend--the author.

Now let us return to the eagle. I am thinking what a pity it is that the Americans should have chosen this tyrant-bird as the emblem of their liberty; for, although he is _most appropriate_ for _one portion_ of their people, he is far from being a fit emblem of the principles of the great republic. So thought the wise Franklin. There are many other animals, peculiar to the territory of the United States, far more deserving of the distinction. There is the bold but harmless buffalo, the stately elk, and the industrious beaver; or if a bird must needs be upon the banner, where could one be found better suited to that end than the wild-turkey, possessing as he does a combination of good qualities-- grace, beauty, courage, and usefulness? Thus reasoned Franklin; and it might be yet worth the while of the American people to give consideration to his reasoning, and discard the eagle; or, at all events, change the species--for peculiar to the United States territory there is another bird of the kind, far n.o.bler, as well as larger and more beautiful.

It is curious to observe how many countries have adopted this rapacious bird for their emblem; and it forms a sad index to the motives that have hitherto actuated nations. In ancient times it was seen upon the banners of Persia and Rome. In modern days Napoleon spread its wings like black shadows over France. It is the emblem of Russian despotism and American freedom. Austria, Prussia, Poland, Sicily, Spain, Sardinia, and many of the small governments of Germany, look up to the eagle on their standards; while, upon the other side of the Atlantic, it waves over the great nations of the United States and Mexico, as well as several of the smaller republics. Why, a general war among the nations of the world would be almost exclusively a war among the eagles! It is not improbable that the _lion_ would insist upon having a claw in the quarrel; although his honesty and n.o.bility of disposition are very much doubted, particularly by the jackal and some other animals. He is, therefore, no better qualified to act as the representative of a pacific people than the very worst of the eagles; but he fortunately has a wise keeper, called Public Opinion, who of late has held him under some restraint.

"What a chain of destruction!" exclaimed Lucien. "One creature preying upon another."

"Ay," added Francois; "and how curious it should begin with a bird and end with a bird. Look at the two together. Ha! ha!"

As Francois made this remark, he pointed to the little humming-bird and the great eagle--which had been laid side by side upon the gra.s.s, and, sure enough, presented in size and appearance a most singular contrast to each other.

"You forget, Francois," said Lucien, "there were two other links to the chain, and perhaps many more."

"What other links?" demanded Francois.

"The humming-bird, you remember, when attacked, was himself a destroyer.

He was killing the little blue-winged fly."

"That is certainly another link, but--"

"Who killed the eagle?"

"Ah, true! Basil, then, was the last link in the chain of destruction."

"Perhaps the most criminal, too," said Lucien, "because the least necessary. The other creatures were but following out their instincts to procure food, whereas Basil's only motive was one of wanton destruction."

"I beg to differ with you, Luce," said Basil, interrupting his brother, sharply, "it was no such thing. I shot that eagle because he killed the kite, and robbed him of his prey, instead of using his industry and getting food for himself. That's why I added a link to your chain."

"In that sense," replied Lucien, smiling at his brother--who seemed a little ruffled at being thus charged with unnecessary cruelty,--"in that sense you were, perhaps, justifiable; though it is difficult to understand why the eagle was more guilty than the kite himself. He took only one life, and so did the kite."

"But," rejoined Basil, "in addition to taking away the life of his victim, he robbed him. Robbery and murder both. Now the kite was guilty only of the latter."

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Lucien and Francois together. "There _is_ a distinction with a difference!"

"But, brother Luce," inquired Francois, "what did you mean when you said there might be many more links to this chain?"

"Why, who knows but the blue-winged fly was preying upon some other creatures smaller than himself? And these again, upon others still less; who, though invisible to our eyes, possess life and organisation as well as we. Who knows to the contrary? And who knows the reason why a mysterious Providence has created those beings to be the food of each other? That is a question about which we can arrive at no satisfactory conclusion."

"Who knows, brother," said Francois, "since you are speculating--who knows but there may be an extra link at the other end of the chain? Ho, Basil! what say you? Suppose we fall in with grizzly bears." And Francois laughed as he put the question.

"And supposing we do," replied Basil, "_you_ are as likely to form that link as anybody else."

"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Lucien. "I hope that in all our travels we shall see neither a grizzly bear nor an Indian."

"And I hope for nothing of the sort," rejoined Basil. "I long to have a crack at a grizzly; and as for Indians, I haven't the least fear of them, so long as I carry this."

As Basil made this remark, he drew out the little beaded case from his bosom, held it up a moment, and then returned it to its place again.

"Now, brother," cried Francois, "tell as about that pouch, and how it is to save us from Indians. I am really curious to know."

"Not now, my boy," replied Basil, with a patronising air. "Not now. We must prepare our supper, and get to sleep. We have lost half a day drying our rags, so we must make up for it by an early start in the morning. Then for the prairies!"

"Then for the prairies!" echoed Francois,--"the prairies--the wild horses--the big-horns--and the buffalo!"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THREE BUFFALOES WITH WINGS.

Our travellers next morning resumed their journey, and for several days continued on without meeting any incident worth recording. They crossed many large streams, among which may be mentioned the Neches and Trinity of Texas.

On the "divide," between the Trinity and Brazos rivers, an adventure befell them that came near having a painful result.

In hot weather it was their custom to halt during the noon hours, both to refresh themselves and rest their animals. This is the custom of most travellers through these wild regions, and is called "nooning."

With this intention, one day, they drew bridle by the edge of a tract of prairie, and dismounted. Behind them was the forest through which they had just pa.s.sed, and before them lay the prairie, which they intended to cross in the cool of the evening. The surface of the latter was quite level, covered with a green mantle of young buffalo-gra.s.s, with here and there an island of low timber that broke the monotony of the view. In the distance a thick forest of live oak bounded the prairie on the other side; and although the latter appeared only two or three miles distant, it was not less than ten--so deceptive is the pure atmosphere of these upland regions. The country in which they now were was what is termed "timber prairie"--that is, a prairie interspersed with groves and copses.

I say our adventurers had just dismounted, and were about to take off their saddles, when an exclamation from Francois drew the attention of his brothers.

"_Voila_!" cried he, pointing out to the open ground. "Buffaloes-- buffaloes!"

Basil and Lucien looked in the direction pointed out. Three large dark objects were seen on the crest of a low swell in the prairie. They were moving about; and one was evidently smaller than the others.