“Don’t shoot!” cried George, excitedly, as Ed brought the gun to his shoulder. “We’ll get him alive,” and he bounded off in pursuit of the escaping bird.
They soon saw that it was only wounded slightly, and could make excellent speed through the tangled undergrowth. Indeed, it was only by the greatest efforts that they were able to keep it in sight. But it was leaving a broad trail, and they knew they would be able to track it to its hiding-place.
The bird finally sought refuge under a log. The boys whooped delightedly, for they knew it could not escape them. Being entirely unfamiliar with the danger from the powerful beak and talons of this bird, George stooped down and reached recklessly beneath the log. He instantly withdrew his hand and gave utterance to a howl of pain as he hopped about holding to one of his fingers, which was bleeding freely.
“What happened?” asked Ed, in surprise.
“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.