When Lee Hemingway learned of the offer, he determined to earn it. It
was rather early in the season for our emblematical birds to hatch
their young, but, by carefully watching a pair, he succeeded in finding
where their nest was made. It was on the summit of an almost
insurmountable bowlder, rising nearly a hundred and twenty-five feet in
the valley of the Guadaloupe.
The bravest man might well shrink from attempting to scale the
perpendicular sides of this mass of rock, but as young Hemingway gazed
longingly up the side to the nest, he noticed that the stone had become
coated, in the course of time, with earth, which was covered with
tangled vines and stunted vegetation.
"I believe I can climb that," thought the sturdy lad, after
scrutinizing the herculean task, and watching one of the eagles soaring
far above the summit. "I think there is enough foothold, and I can use
the vines to help pull me up; but, if the eagles should catch me at it,
they would make music."
It was the birds that caused him more dread than the forty odd yards of
rock. We knew their fierce nature, and, if they discovered his designs
against their home, as they were almost certain to do, they would
assail him with a fury that must be resistless in his cramped position.
The professor advised him not to make the attempt, but the daring youth
had to earn his own living, and the prize of fifty dollars was too
tempting to be resisted.
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