The Wild Turkey 289 



black object, a something I had seen fly into the 

 open a good four hundred yards away. 



Joe's quick grasp of things proved invaluable. 

 One sweeping glance had told him what was up, 

 and now he was coaching like the passed master 

 he was. 



" Run, gol-darn ye, run ! I'll tell ye when to 

 stop ! " he roared, and I heard and sprinted for 

 dear life. 



" Whoa ! Yer fur — nuff — rite — top — ye ! " he 

 howled, in an agony of excitement, and I stiffened 

 my legs and slid, ploughing snow for ten feet. 



Puffing, twitching all over, I turned my head. 

 Joe had timed it marvellously well. Barely twenty 

 yards away was a noble gobbler, just stretching 

 his long red legs to alight. I saw the huge 

 speckled fans working convulsively, the gleam of 

 the bronze, the drooping tassel, the snaky neck, 

 and all. I should have taken my time, let him 

 get running smoothly, and then cut the head off 

 him as he ran. 



I didn't. I just gave it to him midships, rat- 

 tled in the second barrel, then ran and sat on 

 him as hard as I could, and wished it was twice 

 as hard — that's what I did ! 



As it happened I had hit him in the head, but 

 it wasn't my fault ! The second barrel scored 

 him promiscuously ; but, in spite of the storm of 

 big shot, he was a truly grand bird. 



