WILD TURKEYS IN THE SUNK LANDS. 



189 



" When I struck him he roared an' tried 

 to reach me; but I pushed hard on the bay'- 

 nit an' held him off. He could out-push 

 me an' back me about right smart; but he 

 couldn't reach me; an', seein' this plan 

 wouldn't work he hauled off an' hit the 

 muskit a bat with his paw that nearly lifted 

 me off'n my pins. But I held on, for I 

 knowed it was my only salvation. Then 

 he tried to come down onto all fours; but 

 I pried up on the butt, an' he riz again. 



" Then he begun his pushin' tactics agin; 

 an' his steady pushin' give me a chance to 

 use one hand a little as I had the butt o' 

 the muskit agin the pit of my stomick. 

 By an' by I managed to shove a catridge 

 home jest as I was gettin' tuckered out, an' 

 then I closed the britch. All this time 

 I was a-hoppin' an' pushin' an' tusslin' 

 'round, an' the bar was a-shovin' an' the 2 

 of us a-goin' it fer all thar was in us. Gee! 

 but didn't I feel good when the britch 

 snapped shet. Talk 'bout the feelin's of a 

 feller that's bein' hung, when the rope 

 breaks! That don't describe it! 



" I pulled the trigger and then Well, 



when I come to, I seemed to be a-dreamin'; 

 an' I wondered how big a hole the bullet 

 made in me when the bar pulled the trig- 

 ger; an' I kind o' went feelin' round to see 

 if I could find where it went in. The bar 

 was dead enough though, with a hole in 

 him big enough to stick my leg into; an' 

 from the shakin' up I got it seemed to me 

 I was putty near as dead as Mr. Grizzly. 



" The main trouble with my idee was 

 jist this: I'd figgered on what the old 

 muskit would do to the grizzly at the front 

 end, but I hadn't calklated on how she'd 

 treat me behind; an' when she went off, 

 instead of bustin' like some guns might, 

 she jist bored the bar an' kicked me silly. 

 Why the kick she give me completely up- 

 sot my digestive organs; an' they've never 

 been right sence. But what I can't under- 

 stand," CQncluded Smoky, innocently, " is 

 that whenever I recall the story I have a 

 nuther twinge of ondigestion." 



There was a moment's silence, then a 

 low murmured " Thanks." Then the gen- 

 tle gurgling of Smoky's panacea and in a 

 few minutes he walked away. 



WILD TURKEYS IN THE SUNK LANDS. 



JOHN W. PRATHER. 



In the region of Reelfoot lake, in West- 

 ern Tennessee, once the hunting ground of 

 Davy Crockett, low ridges covered by a 

 dense growth of cane, alternate with hol- 

 lows filled with cypress. Yearly covered 

 by the overflow from the Mississippi, this 

 bottom land is fertile as the valley of the 

 Nile; and in its tangled cover, wild turkeys 

 can yet be found. 



In early spring, some years ago, my 

 friend, Ben, and I, started on horseback 

 from our homes. A few hours' leisurely 

 ride brought us to Carpenter's Landing, 

 on Reelfoot lake. Leaving our horses, and 

 obtaining a canoe, we crossed the lake, 

 and, choosing a suitable spot on a cane 

 ridge, were soon ready to camp. 



Ben built a fire, and cooked 4 young 

 squirrels we had shot, while I cut stakes 

 and poles, and constructed a shelter for the 

 night. A few bundles of switch cane served 

 for a roof; and more, laid on the ground, 

 and covered by gum-cloth, made a com- 

 fortable bed. When supper was ready, we 

 were also ready. The savory odor of 

 broiled squirrel and hot, black coffee, stim- 

 ulated our appetite, and we soon cleared 

 the platter. 



Ben produced a bottle labelled " For 

 medical purp's only." He proposed, 

 though we are not physicians, that we 

 should sample its contents; which he 



highly recommended as an antidote for 

 snake-bite. Knowing there were moc- 

 casins in the vicinity, he thought it only 

 prudent that we be forearmed as well as 

 forewarned. Ben is a very prudent man, 

 and always ready for snakes, though he 

 seldom sees them. He is something of a 

 philosopher, is Ben, a great hunter, and 

 good cook. At home he suffers from " that 

 tired feeling; " but in the woods — lucky in- 

 deed is the turkey, or deer, that escapes 

 his rifle. 



At 5 o'clock next morning we had break- 

 fasted, put the camp in order, oiled and re- 

 charged our guns, and were ready to start 

 a-field. A short tramp brought us to a 

 cypress brake, through which we stole 

 noiselessly. The first rays of the sun were 

 gilding the tops of the evergreens when we 

 heard — " gee-oble-goble-oble " — a gob- 

 bler's salute to the morning. The bird was 

 evidently wide awake, and quite near us, 

 possibly within 1,000 yards, and we sought 

 cover cautiously and quickly. 



Ben took position in a tree-top, well 

 situated in a place where the cane was not 

 too high, nor too thickly grown. I hid 

 in a bunch of short, thick cane, about 60 

 feet away. We felt confident of success; 

 understanding thoroughly our game, and 

 grounds, and what was of equal moment 

 just then, each other. 



