So I kept watch pretty closely in daytime, and at night I shut the pigs up in the corner there, where you see I've built a pen.

Yesterday I heard squealing--and, by George! I saw an eagle flying off with one of my pigs.

Say, I was mad.

A great old bald-headed eagle--the regal bird you see with America's stars and stripes had degraded himself to the level of a coyote.

I ran for my rifle, and I took some quick shots at him as he flew up.