waited, watching him suspiciously as he drew near.
"Well, old chief," said the little old man, "you're coming to live with me for a while. Maybe I can fix that wing or maybe you'll have to live with me always."
With a slow, soundless stroke of the paddle, he drove the punt a little nearer the log, ready to start in swift pursuit if the crippled bird took to the water.
"A close call, Sanute," he muttered, "a deucedly close call. But I said it and I was right. Red Cam the Killer will never lift your scalp."
