THE WILD TURKEY. 213 



sight, for the slightest flash of Hght from it, 

 even with no sun shining on it, may make the 

 game vanish before the quickest shot could catch 

 it. And now the utmost caution with the call 

 is needed, for there is little distance to soften 

 your mistakes. Your fingers, too, are trembling: 

 but there is no disgrace about that ; for the man 

 who cannot get nervous in the presence of noble 

 game is but a butcher and not a sportsman. Ten- 

 derly you scrape the raised edge of the little box 

 against the gun, and get ready to touch the 

 trigger. Soon there is an answer, and your heart 

 beats as never before, for you realize it is so 

 close that it will not be safe to answer it. The 

 dog knows it too, for now he lies still as death 

 beside you. He trembles, and the twitching at 

 his nose shows he would whine with anxiety if 

 he were not too well broken. 



Suddenly your straining eyes detect something 

 moving in the edge of the underbrush beyond 

 the little open space in front of your blind, and 

 in a moment more out steps a dark bird that to 

 your startled fancy seems as large as an ostrich. 

 He is not fifty yards away; there is no time to 

 gauge his size, or speculate on his coming closer. 



