“Say, you’re getting awfully fresh,” exclaimed Grant, pretending that he was angry. “Can’t you be serious and tell us how you caught him?”
“Certainly I can, I was walking down around the end of the island when I spied this fellow on the ground. I went up close to him and he just flopped up and down and evidently could use only one wing. I saw right away that it was broken and decided right there and then that he ought to belong to me. I chased him all around for I don’t know how long and finally I grabbed him by the tail feathers and hung on. It was no easy thing to do though and I can tell you I nearly gave it up any number of times. Just as I’d get up close to him and make a grab at him, he’d hop away and when I did catch him he tried his best to bite me. He’s got plenty of spunk all right,” and George looked ruefully at his bleeding hand.
“Are you going to tame him?” asked John.
“I’m going to do my best.”
“Do you think he’ll stay around here?”
“He will as long as he’s tied, that’s sure. I got that string off that old tarpaulin; you know the one we had in the life-boat when we left the Josephine.”
“You ought to clip his wings,” said Grant.
“I know it and I intend to, too. I was just waiting for some of you fellows to come back and help me. Where have you been anyway?”
The whole story of John and the shark was related to George, who was naturally very much interested in the account.
“I wish I’d been there to see it,” he exclaimed ruefully.