Grouse of the Northern Cattle Plains 109 



peevish pi-ou ! pi-ou ! of the sleepy birds. Gradually 

 the noisy fluttering subsided, and the last faint 

 unsettled peep even was hushed. Dead silence 

 reigned, and we waited and watched. The moon 

 climbed up, and in another hour, as we looked 

 through the tree-tops, we could make out against the 

 light background of the sky, almost as clearly as by 

 day, the sleeping victims of our guns and rifles. A 

 low soft whistle was passed along from man to man ; 

 and the signal given, how different the scene be- 

 came! A deafening report suddenly rang out into 

 the silent night, a flash of light belched from the 

 gun muzzle, and a heavy thud followed as twenty 

 pounds of turkey struck the ground. In our silent 

 moccasins we flitted about under the roost, and re- 

 port after report on all sides told how good the sport 

 was and how excellent the chance that the boys at 

 McKavett would have plenty of turkeys at their 

 Christmas dinner. The turkeys were so surprised 

 by the sudden noise, so entirely unprepared for the 

 visit of the sportsman to their secluded retreat, that 

 they did not know what to make of it, often remain- 

 ing stupidly on their branch after a companion five 

 feet off had been shot down. With the last bird shot 

 or flown away ended our evening's sport. All the 

 dead birds were gathered together and strapped in 

 bunches by our saddles and on the pack-mules. It 

 does not take many pecan- and grass-fed turkeys to 

 make a load, and back we trotted to camp, the steel 

 hoofs striking into the prairie soil with a merry ring 

 of triumph over the night's work. The hour was 



