DISAPPOINTMENT. 237 



felt that my chance of becoming more intimately ac- 

 quainted with him was very small, inasmuch as the bird 

 stood with its head raised high up, and was at least 

 two hundred yards from the spot where I stood. How- 

 ever, as he seemed disinclined to come towards me, I 

 began to crawl onwards on hands and knees, hoping to 

 be able to reach the spot without disturbing him. My 

 hopes were doomed to be disappointed, for on reaching 

 the spot where he had stood I could no longer see him. 

 Full of disappointment, I shouldered my gun, returned 

 to the banks of the creek, overtook the boat, and break- 

 fasted with great disrelish on cold pork, while visions of 

 devilled drumsticks floated before my eyes. 



It was about noon when the boat reached the wood- 

 yard, and being rather anxious to shine in the eyes of 

 my fellow-voyagers, I again took my gun and strolled 

 out into the woods. I had scarcely gone a hundred 

 yards to the rear of the woodman's shanty, when a 

 fine hen turkey ran from a corn-field into the forest, 

 across a rough road, along which the cord-w^ood was 

 hauled to the landing-place. To my unpractised eye 

 it appeared so much like a tame bird rambling in the 

 wood that I was afraid to shoot lest I might be called 

 to account for the destruction of farm-yard poultry. 

 But, as some misgivings crossed my mind, I returned 

 to the wood-yard, and inquired if turkeys were kept 

 there ? 



' Certainly not,' was the reply. ' The one you saw 



