great bird's wing. The quartermaster declared that, without much doubt,
the bird had been shot at from a small boat and by some idle and
thoughtless "sportsman."

"It is wrong," Daddy Bunker said, "to call such people 'sportsmen.'
There is no real sport in shooting at and laming an inoffensive
creature, one that cannot be made use of for food. That excuse does not
hold in this case."

"True word, sir," said the quartermaster. "It was a wicked trick, I'll
say. But I think the bird will recover very shortly. Perhaps the little
folks can see the bird released before we get to Charleston."

"Not me!" cried Rose again. "I am going right downstairs when you open
that cage and set him free. He has got such a wicked eye."

And truly, interested as she was in the poor bird, Rose Bunker did not
often go near him during the time he was in captivity. She found other
things to interest her about the swiftly sailing _Kammerboy_.

So did all the other Bunkers. For what interested the six little Bunkers
was sure to interest Daddy and Mother Bunker. It just _had_ to. As
Mother Bunker observed, Mun Bun was not the only one of her flock over
whom she must keep pretty close watch.

They were really well behaved children; but mischief seemed to crop up
so very easily in their lives. Daddy said that any Bunker could get into
more adventures nailed into a wooden cage no bigger than the turkey
crate the great sea-eagle was housed in than other children could find
in a ten acre lot!