"Something yelled like--" "You never heard a screech-owl before, did you, Gene ?" Grant crept between his blankets and snuggled down, as if his mind held nothing more important than sleep.
"Screech-owl my granny! You bumped into something you couldn't handle--if you want to know what _I_ think about it," Clark guessed shrewdly.

"I wish now I'd taken the trouble to hunt the thing down; it didn't seem worth while getting up.

But I leave it to Gene if you ain't mad enough to murder whatever it was.

What was it ?" He waited a moment without getting a reply.
"Well, keep your teeth shut down on it, then, darn yuh!" he growled.
"That's the Injun of it--I know YOU! Screech-owl--huh! You said when you left it was an Indian--and that's why we didn't take after it ourselves.
We don't want to get the whole bunch down on us like they are on you--and if there was one acting up around here, we knew blamed well it was on your account for what happened to-day.

I guess you found out, all right.