232 FIELD SHOOTING. 



one direction, so as to get out of the timber. 

 The turkeys I had killed were very large ones 

 — twenty pounds each. However, I trudged along 

 through the snow, and at last got clear of the 

 woods, and found out where I was. It was not, 

 however, as I had expected, between Petersburg 

 and where I lived, but at Indian Point, from 

 which I had a walk of thirteen miles home. I 

 do not think I ever was more tired than I was 

 that night when I reached home. Travelling in 

 snow is not easy walking, and tracking turkeys 

 in it is emphatically hard work. 



I went out one day to hunt wild turkeys near 

 the mouth of Salt Creek in seven or eight inches 

 of wet snow, the weather being mild and the frost 

 giving, so that the snow packed. I came upon 

 the tracks of a flock of turkeys, and, after fol- 

 lowing them for some time, I killed two. Tak- 

 ing up the main trail again, I noticed the track 

 of one very large turkey, a real great gobbler. I 

 had heard other men speak of having been on the 

 track of a very large turkey about there, but none 

 of them had ever been able to come up with 

 him, though they had killed others out of the 

 flock he led. I now determined to do my best to 

 get him, and resolved not to go off after stragglers, 



