AMONG THE SAND HILLS. 



189 



I hnd been there 5 minutes a bug began to 

 force his way noisily through the leaves; a 

 bumble bee swang himself heavily up from 

 a tiny nettle blossom and dropped away in 

 search of new sweets ; a flying squirrel 

 squeaked and showed her nose and big 

 bright eyes at the hollow of a dogwood, 

 thus unconsciously betraying the secret of 

 her nest ; an old snail resumed his proverb- 

 making march to nowhere ; there were a 

 thousand stirrings of life which the least 

 movement on my part would have si- 

 lenced. 



I had been at my post some 15 minutes, 

 and my attention was engrossed by the 

 Nimrod spectacle of black ants dragging 

 a worm to their hill, when Scot made a 

 start at his yelping. The sound was not 

 so much like the call of a turkey as a kind 

 of composite barnyard cry, a general mix- 

 ture of quacking, hen singing, goose gan- 

 dering, with a small intermixture of a 

 foreign vibration, namely, crow cawing; 

 but it did the work. The yelping was 

 done timidly, as if the yelper were a mod- 

 est young hen who no sooner spoke her 

 mind than she regretted it and felt like 

 apologizing. It was also brief. Three 

 calls, then a pause ; sometimes 4 calls ; 

 sometimes 2. 



Before me the slope gradually rose for 

 half a mile or more and was for the most 

 part in plain view. As I kept my eyes in 

 that direction I presently saw something 

 top the hill, running. It was making di- 

 rectly for me, and as it came nearer I rec- 

 ognized a well grown turkey. Almost 

 breathless I waited until she ran up within 

 40 yards of me, when she winded me, 

 stopped, craned her neck, and uttered, as 

 in soliliquy, 2 or 3 low "tucks." I eased 

 the barrel of my gun down till it bore 

 on her breast; then I fired. 



Before the smoke had cleared away, 

 Dike, the dog, rushed on the scene, hotly 

 followed by his guardian, Babe. This led 

 to some stiff phrases from Scot, request- 

 ing Babe to return to his lair with Dike. 



"What 'as the matter? How did you 

 shoot?" Scot inquired. 



When I replied, he exclaimed : 



"Oh, yes ; I forgot to tell you that they 

 '11 shed shot like a duck sheds water. You 

 ort to er waited till she turnt sideways er 

 clean round, an' er stuck the shot in ag'in' 

 the grain. Now set thah again an' fix the 

 next on' right." 



After 15 minutes of silence and another 

 15 minutes of yelping, I caught sight of a 

 gobbler coming my way. His gait was 

 not so fast as the hen's had been, but he 

 walked with more assurance. I put my 

 gun in position and sat perfectly still until 

 he came within 20 steps of me. There he 



winded me and called a sudden halt, acting 

 much as the hen had acted. All at once 

 he detected me beyond a doubt, squatted, 

 and spread his wings for flight, just as I 

 threw my load into his back. 



Up rushed Babe and his protege as be- 

 fore, this time to some purpose. The gob- 

 bler was flopping on the ground in front of 

 us. Babe and Dike threw themselves on 

 him, the former with loud shouting, which 

 he kept up until Scot arrived and knocked 

 the bird in the head. It was easily im- 

 agined that Babe in his enthusiasm had 

 given the surviving turkeys a fright for 

 good and all. 



This proved true. We lay there for 

 hours, yelping faithfully, but in vain. As 

 the shadows lengthened to the Eastward 

 we set pace on our homeward journey Babe 

 tossed the gobbler over his shoulder, hold- 

 ing him by one foot. How weary was that 

 way ! My shoes, polished on the straw and 

 grass, were slick as eels, so that I slipped 

 at every step. I was too proud to confess 

 my weakness to those whose standard of 

 manhood was physical strength ; I gritted 

 my teeth and trudged on. 



At the top of a high hill my companions 

 stood still and listened. The jangle of a 

 cowbell came to us from the next hillside. 

 That was the sound they had listened for, 

 and I dragged myself behind them thither. 

 Scot drawled a long "Hoo-00-00 !" with a 

 mellow cadence, in obedience to which the 

 bell cow at once left off grazing and took 

 up a bee line, as the outcome proved, for 

 home. The other cattle fell in behind her 

 one by one, making finally a line of 40 

 pairs of horns, forty swaying backs, and 

 160 crackling ankles. 



Up the long lane we followed them to 

 the lot, where the Gillis women stood 

 waiting, piggin in hand. How streamed 

 the milk into those piggins ! What an ex- 

 perience of pastoral life ! It is unneces- 

 sary to state whether I held a calf off by 

 the ear. How delicious was the supper of 

 milk and pieces broken from a big, brown, 

 oven loaf of corn bread ! It was the best 

 supper I have ever eaten. 



Best of all was the bed, on its massive, 

 old fashioned bedstead. It stood between 

 2 windows, where the gentle breeze, laden 

 with perfume of the soil, orchards and 

 woods, played over it all night. The house 

 was surrounded by huge oaks wherein the 

 katydids perched and sang their lullaby 

 like an audible peace. 



There is game in the sandhills, some 

 natural beauty, a few hospitable people, 

 and unlimited health. I shall always be 

 pleased at the miscarriage of my letter to 

 Major Tillman, 



