"Jim did, the bally old owl!" came the dismal answer; "please, oh!
please tell me whether his beak is poisonous, won't you, Thad?"

"Well, what d'ye think of that?" ejaculated Step Hen, "however did you
happen to meddle with my owl, tell me? Sure, I did give you permission
to unchain him, if you had the nerve; but I never did believe you'd go
and take me up at that."

"I didn't neither," Bumpus declared, still dancing around.

"Here, let me see that wound!" called out Thad, as he and Allan cornered
the sufferer; "all it may need is washing, and then binding up with some
healing salve. But it makes a nasty cut, don't it, Allan?"

"I should say yes," replied the other; "but it's some lucky it wasn't
his face the bird struck at. Why, Bumpus might have lost an eye."

At that possibility the fat scout set up another roar.

"Just you believe the old thing meant to snap my eye out when he bit at
me; and I must have happened to put out my hand--so he struck that!" he
declared; while Allan hastened to open a package and take out some salve
and tape such as scouts should always carry along with them when in
camp, because there is no telling when it may be needed badly, just as
in the present instance.

"But see here, what possessed you to walk around in this way, and go
over to try and pet that savage bird?" asked Thad.