killed an eagle, not even in the Hartz or the Engadine."
Erceldoune glanced at him.
"They are rare, and when they do appear we shoot them to ensure their scarcity! Perhaps the eagle you would wish to kill is the eagle with two heads? What sport have yon had, Duke?"
Very bad! Birds wild as the But, God bless my soul, your bag's full! I say, we're nearly famished; can't you let us have something to eat at your place yonder?"
"With pleasure, sir, if your Grace can honour an owls' roost, and put up with a plain meal of cold game," said Erceldoune, as he thrust the dead king, with all his pomp of plumage torn and blood-stained, into his bag with the blackcocks, ptarmigan, wild-duck, and snipes.
"My dear fellow! I'll thank you for a crust; I'm literally starving," cried the nobleman, who was pining so wearily for his luncheon that the words "cold game" sounded to him like paradise. "And, by-the-way, if you've any of your father's Madeira left, you might feast an emperor; there wasn't such a wine connoisseur in Europe as Regency Erceldoune."
