a 84 The Turkey Family 



ered and followed sufficiently far to warrant the 

 belief that no shot took effect. By neglecting to 

 do this I once lost one of the finest gobblers ever 

 flushed. A farmer happened to see this bird go 

 down some hundreds of yards from where it was 

 shot at; he retrieved it, and told me all about 

 it — six months later ! 



A glance at a recent hunt may serve as an 

 illustration of the ups and downs and the glorious 

 uncertainty of turkey trailing. 



Morning broke with a golden radiance which 

 made one feel that it was good to be alive. A 

 new white mantle had been spread over the brown 

 shoulders of Mother Earth, and all her trees were 

 gay with diamond powder and feathery trimming. 

 For a week sharp frosts had prevailed, and Winter 

 had set his iron grip upon all but steeply slanting 

 water. The previous afternoon I had travelled 

 to the small village in the woods. Twelve hours 

 before a gray sky had warned me, the message 

 had been wired, and my short trip had ended amid 

 the last scattering flakes of the promised snowfall. 



True to previous arrangement, " Joe " had me 

 out in a vaguely gray light which he called morn- 

 ing. Everything looked favorable, and within an 

 hour we had entered the woods. 



" It's three miles," said Joe, tersely, as he started 

 his long, lean legs upon a route which might end 

 the Lord knew where. As I knew my man, no 



