File:The hunter and the trapper in North America; or, Romantic adventures in field and forest. From the French of Bénédict Révoil (1875) (14727119616).jpg

Identifier: huntertrapperinn1875rv (find matches)
Title: The hunter and the trapper in North America ; or, Romantic adventures in field and forest. From the French of Bénédict Révoil
Year: 1875 (1870s)
Authors: Révoil, Bénédict Henry, 1816-1882 Adams, W. H. Davenport (William Henry Davenport), 1828-1891
Subjects: Hunting Game and game-birds
Publisher: London, New York : T. Nelson and Sons
Contributing Library: Harold B. Lee Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Brigham Young University

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ty, whose bark had flowed like lava over the wall ofstone, where it adhered as if it had been rivetted withiron bands. This oak was some ninety feet high, andplanted on the very edge of the abyss. I found myself in this romantic scene one morning,with a celebrated English hunter, an enthusiast, namedWhitehead, who, probably as a satirical antithesis to his ST. HUBERT S BROTHERHOOD OF HUNTERS. 15 name, covered his f^wrinkled brow witha wig blacker thanebony. One of ourhunting - companions,the famous Herbert,surnamed Frank For-ester, who was tem-porarily absent, jestedwith Whitehead onthis useless append-age to his toilet, asmuch too fantastic fora man of such graveand decorous charac-ter. In their quipsand jibes I had bornea part; but assuredly,when laughing at mybrother in the frater-nity of Saint Hubert, Inever once suspectedthat to his artificialscalp he would owehis life. From five oclockin the morning wehad been traversinghills and valleys inpursuit of widgeonsand quails. Ourgame-
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ON THE VERY EDGE OF THE ABYSS 16 A DANGEROUS ENTERPRISE. bag was already three-quarters full, and we were think-ing of rejoining Frank Forester at our hut, when sud-denly, as he passed near the oak of which I havespoken. Whitehead raised his eyes in the air, anduttered an exclamation of joy. On one of the highestboughs of the time-honoured tree he had descried, and hepointed out to me through the branches, an eagles nest.He had no doubt the eyrie was inhabited, for he hadremarked an oscillation among the twigs of which itwas composed. There were eaglets in the nest. To throw aside his gun and his hunting-bag, to mount,or rather haul himself up the trunk of the tree, was butthe work of a moment; and my comrade executed thisgymnastic feat without consulting me, without listeningto the cautions I thought it necessary to address to him.After disappearing for awhile in a labyrinth of verdure,I saw him at the edge of the nest, raising his head so asto look into the interior. Good ! good ! h

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