wound. Swadley still managed to retain his footing in the snow, though nearly unconscious, and strove to ward off the blows of the eagle’s talons, which nearly tore him to pieces. Swadley’s dog Gunner was probably the only thing that saved him from being killed. The dog was off from its master when the bird attacked him, but when Swadley shouted it returned and made for the eagle. The latter turned from the man to the dog, and Swadley says with the stroke of its powerful claws ripped open its stomach and flew away with the poor creature whining in its talons. Almost blinded by the blood which flowed from the wound over his eye, the hunter contrived to find his way down the mountain side to the cabin of Abe Kitsmiller, on Little Laurel creek, a mile or more from the place of conflict. He stumbled into the cabin nearly dead from the loss of blood. Kitsmiller was at home, and after he had bound up Swadley’s wounds as well as he could, he put him on a horse and brought him to Addison.     Owing to the fact that the bird came on him so suddenly, and nearly blinded him at the outset by the blow on the head, Swadley is not able to give much of a description of it. Its strength, however, he declares, was prodigious, and twice he was lifted off his feet by its onslaughts. Its body, he says, is as large as that of a man. “Ef it was to come ez ter how I should have ter pick atwixt a painter [panther, colloq.] and the varmint, in fair hand-to-hand fight, I should take the painter every time,” he said in telling of the affair. From— The Evening Star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.), 16 March 1895. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress.