with another stick, caught the otter's neck in the fork
and held the creature firmly to the ground. Then putting his left
hand around its neck he held the head down in the mud, and with his
right hand clutched the skin of the animal's back.

"All right, Dick, take off the trap."

"Trouble's goin' to begin. Here goes," said Dick, and the trap was
removed.

Like a flash of light, as Ned lifted the little beast, it thrust its
head through the loose skin of the neck and turning backward bit
Ned's hand to the bone four times in something less than a second.
The otter would have been free, but that Dick, who was looking for
trouble, had it by the neck with both hands and in spite of its
biting, scratching and struggling, it was dumped in the box and the
door of its cage closed.

"Been having fun! Haven't we?" said Dick, ruefully, as the boys,
scratched, bitten and bleeding, stood looking at each other, after
their victory. Ned's hand was disabled and so painful that Dick
paddled the canoe, with its cargo of boys and pet otter, to their
camp.

"Now, Ned," said Dick, "I'm the surgeon and you are to be respectful
and call me Dr. Dick. Let me see your left hand first. I've got to
decide whether to chop it off, or to try and save some of it."

"You look as if you needed some fixing up yourself, Dick."

"That will be all right. You shall have a chance at me--if you
survive the operation."

Dick got a bottle of carbolated vaseline from their stores, tore up
one of Ned's shirts and put the strips in boiling water. He then
washed Ned's wounds with warm water and soap and dressed and
bandaged them. His own injuries were less serious than Ned's,
although more numerous, and although he spoke lightly of them, his
companion insisted on their having as careful treatment as his own.
When the bandaging was over, Dick said:

"We ought to have a yellow flag to fly over this hospital. I wish we
had a medical book to tell us what we've probably got. The only
things I'm sure of are blood poisoning and hydrophobia. Then there's
enlargement of the spleen. I've got all the symptoms of that."

"Your only danger is from melancholia, Dick. But what are we to do
with the otter? That box is too small for his comfort."

"I'm not losing any sleep over his comfort. I thought I'd take him
out of his cage every morning and lead him around the camp for
exercise until you were ready to begin his education."

"It does not seem quite as easy to tam