straight toward the huckleberry bush. 

 His eyes gleamed fiercely in the soft 

 moon-glow ; expectancy lurked on the 

 savage droop of his lower jaw. His 

 smell had said "Turkey !" that was 

 enough for him to know. 



"Yow-1!" the blackberry briar had 

 torn savagely at his belly, and not in 

 vain. It had served, too, to warn the 

 turkey when the wind was dead against 

 her. With a frightened cry, she sprang 

 off the nest and sought safety in flight. 

 Behind her, maddened to desperation by 

 hunger and disappointment, followed the 

 swift-footed fox. . The turkey might 

 have quickly outdistanced him by day, 

 but she ran clumsily at night. Steadily 

 the fox gained upon her. The issue was 

 narrowing itself down to a certainty. 

 If she would only stick to the ground, 

 he would soon win the race, despite the 

 interference of the blackberry briar. 



Away up the Big Swamp the turkey 

 led, dodging the trees with the unerring 

 instinct of the wild, leaping the logs, 

 splashing through pools, with as much 

 ease as her pursuer. But nevertheless 

 she was losing ground. The fox re- 

 alized it, dashing nearer and nearer with 

 great tireless strides. 



Several times she could have flown, 

 but having little confidence in her wings, 

 continued to run, saving flight as a last 

 resort. Toward a steep slope at whose 

 base a stream ran sparkling on the moon- 

 light, she turned now with desperate 

 speed. The fox, but a few yards be- 

 hind, stretched out in all his splendid 

 flight ; more than once had the same rate 

 left the hound-pack far in the rear. Only 

 a matter of inches — so near, and yet so 

 far — between the two at last, with the 

 glorious taint strong in the fox's nose. 

 Would the turkey never fly? Her feet 

 were pressing the ledge now. Down that 

 steep slope the fox would win. Already 

 the triumph gleamed in his eye. Sud- 

 denly the turkey opened her wings and 

 flopped, and, as she rose, there was a 

 vicious snap in the rear; but the fox 

 got only a mouthful of feathers, and 

 borne onward by his great momentum, 

 rolled over and over till he plunged into 

 the stream below. Dragging himself 

 out, he slunk away, a shabby and shiv- 

 ering figure, leaving the turkey safely 

 perched in a cypress tree. 



Returning cautiously to her nest un- 

 der the huckleberry bush, the turkey con- 

 tinued her task without further interfer- 

 ence, and in due time fifteen little tur- 

 keys took the place of the eggs. With 

 many a proud peet, peet, the mother led 

 them forth into the Big Swamp, teach- 

 ing them to observe her own wild ways, 

 adding to their inborn shyness. 



One morning, as they were feeding on 

 the edge of the swamp, a swiftly moving 

 shadow fell over them, and in obedience 

 to the mother's warning cry, each one 

 sought to flatten himself out beneath a 

 bush, a bit of brush, or a bunch of straw. 

 But one little fellow found no friendly 

 cover, and the next instant there was 

 a dipping swoop, a faint flutter and a 

 stifled cry, and he was borne off in the 

 talons of a great wide-winged chicken- 

 hawk. 



The other little turkeys "played dead" 

 till the mother gave an encouraging pee 

 peet ; then they sprang up and followed 

 her into the swamp. They had learned 

 the meaning of the shadow, and the fear 

 of the creature that cast it was strong 

 upon them. Thereafter, even when a 

 flock of crows or doves passed overhead, 

 they fell swiftly under cover. But 

 among the wild wariness is the gift of 

 both friend and foe alike ; so the turkey- 

 flock continued to suffer till only seven 

 were left. 



Among these was a plump little gob- 

 bler, that had only excelled the others in 

 imitating the mother. He always kept 

 an eye to danger. No matter how tempt- 

 ing the food, he constantly raised his 

 head to see if the coast was clear. Oth- 

 ers might forget themselves to gather up 

 greed}'- mouthfuls, but not he. Though 

 absolute silence reigned in the Big 

 Swamp, he was still wary ; he took noth- 

 ing for granted. The most innocent- 

 looking objects might prove to be en- 

 emies ; he tried everything by the double 

 test of sight and smell. At nightfall, 

 when the flock went to roost in the Big 

 Swamp, he always chose the highest 

 limbs of the cypress tree. His wisdom 

 was justified one night when a little hen 

 foolishly roosted on the ground and fell 

 prey to a prowling fox. 



A few days afterwards, as they were 

 wandering around in the Big Swamp, a 

 distant ye-onk quavered plaintivelv 



208 



