866 



Bow -Shooting. 



ON THE EDGE OF THE WOODS. 



that such a thing as getting near a turkey was impossible. Farther 

 in, however, a broad glade or meadow of low, coarse grass opened 

 before me, on the opposite rim of which I saw the birds skulking 

 quietly along far beyond bow-shot. The only feasible method of 

 approach was to slip around the edge of the glade just inside the 

 fringe of cover. To do this involved time and patient toil, but your 

 archer is used to such tedious strategy. Foot by foot, rod by rod, 

 stealthily as a cat, I made my way, till at length I came to a break 

 in the cover, to pass w,hich would be sure to expose me to the birds. 

 They were fully one hundred and fifty yards away, moving slowly, 

 close together, in a direction " quartering " to me. A few more 

 steps, and they would be in the jungle. I must have a shot. My 

 only chance was to risk the luck of a long-range flight at them, so I 

 braced myself for a steady pull, elevated my bow-arm, drew to my 

 ear, and let go a shaft. At the sound of the recoil of my weapon, 

 the turkeys stopped, lifted their heads, and began that sharp cry of 

 " Pit — pit ! " so well known to sportsmen. Meantime, my arrow 

 went singing through the elongated parabola of its flight. I watched 

 it with that fixed eagerness which always attends a moment of intense 

 suspense. A little breeze was blowing, but it did not seem to affect 

 the course of the shaft. Swiftly it swept down, and I saw the feathers 

 shatter out from the back of one of the turkeys, which tried to rise, 

 but could not. It was a " solid hit,'' as we term it, and the bird was 

 done for. The others of the flock took rapidly to wing, and soon 



