“Gee whiz, the blamed thing has teeth!” declared George. “He bit me!”
They put snow on the injured finger and bound it with a handkerchief. Then they sat down to determine how to get the strange bird without risking more fingers. The boys at last decided to poke it out with a stick; but were at a loss to know how to capture it when it came from beneath the log.
“I have it,” declared George. “When it comes out, I’ll throw my coat over it, and we can wrap it up and carry it home.”
For a long time, however, the bird refused to leave its shelter, and bit and struck at the stick with its powerful beak and great curved claws. Noticing the way it attacked the pole, Ed decided to try an experiment.
He fastened his handkerchief to the end of the stick, and pushed it before the enraged bird. Hissing angrily, the owl snapped viciously at the lure. Before it could release its hold, Ed gave a quick pull which brought the bird from beneath the log.
Once in the open, it turned over on its back and clawed at the air. The boys made many attempts to throw the coat over it, but each time it either kicked it off or scrambled from beneath.
“Fights almost as hard as a bob-cat,” laughed Ed.
“Worse,” declared George, shaking his wounded finger as proof.
The lads eventually got the savage bird wrapped in the garment, but not until Ed had received a nasty scratch from its sharp talons. Using the sleeves of the coat, they managed to tie their struggling captive securely in its folds. Slinging it from the end of a small pole, they set off for the cabin in high spirits.
When they arrived there, they made Ben close the door, and with a shout of triumph they released their prisoner in the center of the room.
“Snowy owl, sure as you’re born,” said Ben, when the bird stood before him.
At his near approach it backed away into a corner, beneath a lower bunk, and he bade them get it out to see if it was badly wounded.
“Not as badly as we are,” laughed George, as he unbound his throbbing finger.
Ed rolled up his sleeve and exhibited the long, red scratch on his arm.
“Heigh!” cried Ben. “Got you, did he?” And he ordered them to wash their wounds with hot water from the kettle.
With the aid of a fish-net he finally got the owl in his grasp, and tenderly examined its wounded wing.