430 AMERICAN GAME BIRD SHOOTING 
again we were chagrined to see George coming down 
the hill, trailing the three that had joined ours; but as 
age deserved consideration, we let him go in advance. 
“Thus we came to a bottom covered with a growth 
of hazel brush, grape-vines and weeds, an ideal hiding 
place for game. A cautious approach, and George 
looked over a brush pile and saw the turkeys sitting 
seventy-five or eighty yards away. It was impossible 
to approach closer, and George saluted them with both 
barrels, but got nothing. We marked the direction 
they took, and followed, George alone, and Riley and 
I after a huge one I had spotted. We struck a lively 
canter and ran quite a distance, as we knew he would 
run a long way before he tired and tried to hide. His 
tracks indicated that he was getting tired, so we slowed 
up and proceeded cautiously. Every fallen tree-top 
was closely scanned. The tracks led down hill toward 
a monster tree blown down during the summer, and 
which still had its leaves on, forming a splendid hiding 
place. We both recognized this immediately, and 
started to go one on each side of the tree-top. I 
stooped to go under the body, which lay three or four 
feet off the ground, when out burst the turkey. I 
‘dropped to get a view of him, and fired one shot as he 
pitched down hill. We ran across the ravine, and at 
the top of the next bluff found tracks where a turkey 
had alighted and departed in hot haste. A run of half 
a mile down the backbone of the hill, and we found 
the turkey had flown. 
“Sadly we retraced our steps, while I caressed a 
