reach.

Before he could fully recover his footing, the bird was upon him,
beak and talons, seizing the sleeve of his shirt and making gashes
in the boy's arm. By a mighty effort Ralph got his balance again,
and turned to meet the onslaught, waving his arms like flails, to
beat down the force of those wide threshing wings. Again and again
the eagle made a vicious rush, and once managed to get under
Ralph's arm and to take an ugly nip in the flesh just above the
eye. Maddened by the pain of this wound, and half blinded by
the blood which soon began to flow from the cut, Ralph snatched
the dead bird from his belt and swung it around his head like
a club. Once this improvised club crashed against the attacking
bird, and Ralph took advantage of the latter's hasty retreat to
slide down the ropes and land on firmer ground. He tossed the
dead bird aside, and lunged forward to recapture his knife. But
the king of the clouds was not by any means outdone. Indeed, the
sight of his dead mate lying on the rocks, near where Ralph was
crouching with his back protected by the sloping rock wall, seemed
to put a new idea into the crafty bird's brain. Screaming with
rage, he swooped down after Ralph, and alighted on the ground
about two yards from the place where the lad crouched in his protecting
niche. Then, with wings bowed outward and downward like a belligerent
hen, with beak snapping and talons spread wide, rending the air, he
charged straight into Ralph's face.

The plucky youth was ready for this, however, and he awaited the
attack, knife in hand. He was unwilling to use the knife if he
could avoid doing so, for a bad cut might injure the skin and
feathers of the coveted trophy. But it seemed likely that such