It had fallen upon the lower boughs, and two young half-fledged eaglets were to be seen hanging helplessly on a few sticks in mid-air and in danger of falling to the ground.
It was a bright afternoon.

The distress of the two birds was pathetic, and their cries called about them other birds, as if in sympathy.
The eagles seldom descended to any point near the plain in their flight, but mounted, as it were, to the sun, or floated high in the air; but in their distress this afternoon they darted downward almost to the ground, as though appealing for help for their young.
While the school was watching this curious scene the old chief of the Umatillas came up the cool highway or trail, to go home with Benjamin after school.
The eagles seemed to know him.

As he joined the pitying group, the female eagle descended as in a spasm of grief, and her wing swept his plume.

She uttered a long, tremulous cry as she passed and ascended to her young.
"She call," said the old chief.

"She call me." "I go," said Benjamin, with a look at his father.
"Yes, go--she call.