The Wild Turkey 295 



the work of a few minutes, and these formed a 

 very comfortable seat. With gun and rifle con- 

 veniently placed, matters looked brighter, so I sat 

 down and began the lonely vigil. 



Crouching in a culvert, with one's eyes on the 

 level of an air-line roadbed, is not very interesting, 

 but when you can smoke, it is not unendurably 

 bad. My old farmer was a true prophet, too, for 

 in less than half an hour, behold! a turkey on the 

 track some four hundred yards away. Others 

 presently followed the first, and I could see the 

 lot rapidly feeding in my direction. At once the 

 prospect was glorified, — the old farmer was a 

 trump, his friend was another; and I — well, I was 

 the two bowers, the joker, and the four aces all in 

 one hand. It was the surest thing ever tackled, 

 and I grinned over the idea of letting them feed 

 right up, getting one with the rifle, and then, hey ! 

 for a lightning change, and one more, maybe two, 

 with the gun. 



Things are not always what they seem, and best- 

 laid plans sometimes are drawn for buildings to 

 go on property to which the title is not clear. As 

 I gloated, to my horror there sounded an ominous 

 click, that unerring indication of a coming train. 

 There came the remembrance of the fact that while 

 there could be no passenger train, a freight was 

 liable to come along any time. The old farmer 

 had forgotten this, while I had never thought of 



