6 THE .CONDOR ] Vo,. VIII

bon-lik sloughs wound in and out, reaching far back like the tentacles of a huge octopus. At the very top of the range the mountain breaks abruptly off into the head of a big canyon. This is the native haunt of the golden eagle. A large sycamore tree is rooted in the bed of a little stream. Four good-sized trunks rise from the giant roots. To the branch bending toward the valley, above the steep, rocky slope, the eagles had carried a small cart-load of limbs and sticks and worked them into the forks where they branched, horizontally. It was a platform five feet across, not carelessly put together, but each stick woven in to add strength

to the whole structure, as the stones are built into a castle.