The Wild Turkey 281 



the test of the man's nerve and skill with the rifle. 

 The turkeys are perfectly aware that they are be- 

 ing followed. All unknown to the man, they 

 have seen him half a dozen times during the long 

 pursuit, and dark, keen eyes are watching the 

 back track. The man seems to drift from tree to 

 tree. 



Presently a turkey mounts a snowy log and 

 stands, a black, sharply defined figure of alertness. 

 The man halts and the rifle comes to the ready. 

 But the bird in sight is not the bird — it is only 

 a small one. Another shows and then another ! 

 They seem to appear in some marvellous manner 

 in the very places which eager eyes have just 

 searched. The mystery of the woods is in these 

 dark, silent shapes. Still the man waits and stares, 

 though the water is in his eyes and a muscle in a 

 leg is cramping stubbornly. 



At last, from nowhere, moves a black mass with 

 nodding head and snaky neck, and it halts and 

 stands bolt upright. The man knows right well 

 what may happen within one minute. A sudden 

 sprint, a clapping of mottled wings, a crashing of 



brittle twigs, and perhaps (?) an emphatic " 



the luck ! " That is all. 



But it hasn't happened yet. Deliberately 

 prompt, the rifle goes to the shoulder ; the sights 

 line truly on the long, slim neck, — or the centre 

 of the big body if it must be so, — a sharp report 



