ston's gaze wandered off to settle once more upon the three big reptilian masters of the lagoon.
He did not know that other eyes as keen and almost as practiced as his own had seen the ibis alight and had recognized the bird with equal certainty. Red Cam had been slowly making his way down through the woods on the opposite side of the lagoon. He had seen no sign of the gobbler for which he was looking and presently he sat down to rest at the foot of a big sycamore a few yards from the edge of the water.
Munching a chunk of bread, washed down with copious draughts from his flask, he talked to the black mongrel Brutus, as was his habit, grumbling about his luck, which seemed to have deserted him. Again and again, as the liquor worked on him, his thoughts returned to Ellen and her grandfather; and these too he cursed, vehemently, obscenely, laying his grievance before the dog as though the animal understood his words.
A swift shadow slid past him and in the midst of a tirade Cam glanced up quickly. It was not a turkey, as he had hoped, but a wood ibis, and, craning his neck to see beyond the willows fringing the lagoon, he watched the big bird alight on a dead limb far out over the water. A grin overspread his flushed face as he gazed. He rose hastily, reached for his gun, and, bidding Brutus
