THE WILD TURKEY. 43 
any person except a great prince who has carroty hair 
and a turned-up nose, and has slain more men single- 
‘handed than the hero in a dime novel.” 
“‘Go on with your romancing.” ? 
“All right. Now, you may not believe it, but I can 
assure you I have seen that turkey running through the 
woods without even a pin-feather on him. And I can 
also tell you that he didn’t present a very respectable 
appearance without his clothes.” 
“‘ What became of them?” 
“They were all shot away by hunters.” 
We had reached the thicket by this time, and, on en- 
tering it, I saw bunches of feathers on the ground. 
** You see,” exclaimed my companion, ‘he’s leaving 
them behind him. You may get enough to stuff a bed, 
if you keep on—” 
I bounded forward before he could finish the sentence, 
for, lying on a bier composed of gaudy flowers, was the 
stately creature whose beauty I had so much admired, 
and whose life I had so eagerly sought. Lifting it up by 
the legs, I dangled it before my comrade’s eyes, and, 
straightening myself up so as to assume as much altitude 
as possible, I looked him boldly in the face, while my 
features beamed with rectitude and the self-assertive air 
of a great conqueror. After staring at each other in 
silence for a short time, he curled up his lip, and said, 
disparagingly: 
«Phew! that’s nothing; that’s not the gobbler I was 
talking about. Why, anybody that wasn’t stone-blind 
could kill that fellow.” 
“That will do,” I replied; ‘‘ you are so jealous of me 
that you can’t speak well of anything I do.” 
“Well, you haven’t much to be proud of there, for 
that veteran is as old as the hills. He is the patriarch of 
the forest.” 
‘I killed him, anyhow, and didn’t run away from him, 
