"Don't you think he'd better be
killed, Officer?"
"Oh, no! Oh, no!" chorused Russ and Rose.
"Of course not. You're one of those folks, sir, that would kill an
American eagle, too--the bird that is supposed to represent the best
fighting spirit of this country. No, sir! this bird is going to have his
chance. If we can heal his wounds, we will set him free again--hey,
little folks?"
"Of course we will," said Russ stoutly.
"Yes, sir! we'll set him free," agreed Rose. "But when you do it I am
going down to the stateroom. I think he is pretty savage."
It was quite true. The injured bird was savage. But when Daddy Bunker
heard about the capture and saw the sea-eagle in its cage, he pointed
out the fact that there was good reason for the bird to be savage if it
had a broken wing.
"You would be cross if you had a broken arm, Russ," Daddy Bunker said
soberly, "So come away and let the poor bird alone for a while. Maybe it
will eat and drink if it is not watched so closely."
It was found that a bullet had passed through the fleshy part of the
great bird's wing. The quartermaster declared that, without much doubt,
the bird had been shot at from a small boat and by some idle and
thoughtless "sportsman."
"It is wrong," Daddy Bunker said, "to call such people 'sportsmen.'
There is no real sport in shooting at and laming an inoffensive
creature, one that cannot be made use of for food.
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