212 GAME-BIRDS AT HOME. 



a shot you could kill if you wished. But you 

 let them all go, for you are after turkeys to-day. 



A few more scrapes of the little box emit 

 plaintive yelps, soft and low yet penetrating. 

 They seem right to your ears, and — scarcely 

 dare you believe it, but — something very much 

 like them follows in the distance, too long after 

 for an echo, yet so soon after that it must be in 

 answer to the call. Careful now! The birds 

 are young and not over-sharp, but still you must 

 not grow too confident or you may make a fatal 

 slip. After a proper time you give two or three 

 more careful calls, and your hair almost lifts your 

 hat off as the reply sounds unmistakably nearer. 

 The critical time is at hand when the temptation 

 to call too quickly, too often, too loud, or to 

 make a false note through nervousness, will often 

 overcome one, and Putt — putt — putt in the dis- 

 tance is all you will again hear of your game. 

 And you may not have that little satisfaction, 

 but may sit and call to the woods and rills until 

 the inner man begins to rebel. 



Soon the reply comes so alarmingly near that 

 it is time to get the gun ready, so that it will 

 not have to be moved after the game comes in 



