"That's a silly story, that smuggler stuff," pronounced Captain Jenks. "To my mind a man who breaks the game laws is worse than a smuggler. We found the ashes of his campfire and this." He held up a pair of bird wings.
"The poor little bird!" exclaimed Meg compassionately. "How can any one shoot a bird!"
"It's all right sometimes, isn't it?" Bobby insisted. "Jud goes gunning, Meg, you know he does."
"I've nothing to say against it when the season is open," said the captain.
Captain Jenks seemed saddened by the discovery of the pretty, spotted wings, but when he had put them away in a little box in the cabin he cheered up and admired the daisies.
"You'll find string in that toolchest," he directed them. "Going to make two bunches? That's right—I don't like to see flowers crowded even after they're picked."
The two bunches were tied to the rail as a safe place and one in which they would not be easily crushed. The motor-boat—by the way, its name was The Sarah, painted in green letters; you haven't been told that before, have you?—was now chugging down the lake toward Greenpier, and Bobby and Meg were taking their first lesson in managing the wheel. Twaddles had found a compass in the toolchest and was having a wonderful time playing with that. Dot thought the time had come to put an idea of hers into practice.
"They look wilted," she told herself, eyeing the daisies with disfavor. "What they need is water."
So this mischievous child took a long string and tied it to each bunch of daisies; then she held it in the middle and allowed them to trail in the water.
The Sarah was almost at Greenpier before Meg glanced toward Dot and saw what she was doing.