“Even a flock of birds wouldn’t be bad, Jack. Anything for food when the pot is empty.”
“You’re right. We mustn’t rest here any more than is necessary.”
They were about to proceed on their way, when Jack suddenly caught his companion by the arm.
“Look! look! A screech owl!” he whispered.
And the next moment he had his gun to his shoulder and was blazing away at a mass of red and white feathers, perched high up in a neighboring tree.
There was a terrific screech, and then down tumbled the big bird almost at their feet.
He was not quite dead, but a blow from Harry’s gun soon settled him, and he lay still in the snow.
“Is he any good for food?” asked Harry, as he surveyed the game.
“He’s better than nothing, that’s certain,” said Jack. “I’ll take him along. If we don’t strike anything else, we’ll eat him, and if we do, I’ll cart him home and have him stuffed.”