"The goose he shot—that goose."
"All right; what about it? Why did it come to you?"
"He sent it."
"Yes, but why?"
"It's an arctic goose, Geoff."
"Arctic?"
"Yes, the white wild goose of that kind. They're arctic. Eric told me about them once. I was sure I remembered. Besides, I looked it up just now." She motioned toward her shelf of books upon the Arctic. "They breed in summer above the Arctic Circle, Geoff, in the islands in the Arctic Ocean almost to the Pole. When winter comes there they fly south to the Gulf shores. This one was in Louisiana when it was shot."
"I see," said Geoff impatiently.
"He found this bound to its leg!" She held a hand toward her brother, but with fingers still firmly closed over the treasure they concealed. "You can see on the right leg there where it was bound. It looks as if it had been bound there when the bird was alive, doesn't
