"No."
"I know…. I wish you'd look up at that eagle. He is not very high."
McKay lifted his head. After a moment he rose to his feet, still looking intently skyward. The eagle was sailing very low now.
"THAT'S AN AMERICAN EAGLE!"
The words shot out of McKay's lips. The girl sat upright, electrified.
And now the sun struck full across the great bird as he sheered the tree-tops above. HEAD AND TAIL WERE A DAZZLING WHITE.
"Could—could it be that dead man's eagle?" said the girl. "Oh, could it be Manitou? COULD it, Kay?"
McKay looked at her, and his eye fell on the gold whistle hanging from her wrist on its jewelled chain.
"If it is," he said, "he might notice that whistle. Try it!"
She nodded excitedly, set the whistle to her lips and blew a clear, silvery, penetrating blast upward.