FOREST AND STREAM 
156 
of an hour, and after that vve might as well come 
and try it again—and that is what vve did. 
Bobby came an hour after sunrise. He saw at 
a glance the situation, thought possibly there 
had been firing, and he had not heard it. The 
canteen of water was soon converted into hot 
coffee. Something had happened to disturb the 
birds and send them in another direction. There 
was a great possibility, however, of their coming 
for the bait some time that day before going to 
roost; it might be any time. Sam and I concluded 
to remain on the ground and later walk back to 
the plantation house. We both knew something 
of forest travel. Bobby gave us some general 
directions and left with the horses for home. He 
was to return to the blind during the afternoon 
to see if the corn was taken and bait the ground 
again if necessary, and we were to try again 
next morning or the morning after. 
We extinguished the remnant of the fire, sat in 
the blind, smoked, made the most of our bad 
luck, and finally as the air grew warmer and' the 
sun higher we drowsed off in sleep. It was 
eleven o’clock when I awoke. I immediately 
peered out to see if turkeys were coming. No 
signs. I went out and examined the ground to 
see if the bait was taken—found it still there. On 
a former occasion turkey shooting, the turkeys 
came and took the corn while my companion and 
myself were sound asleep in the blind. 
We awoke refreshed, ate the balance of the 
sandwiches and started for the house and camp. 
We were to travel northwest by north; this 
was very plain during sunshine; but when the 
heavens became overcast we were not entirely 
sure of the right direction. Had we passed over 
the ground going south to blind in daylight we 
would have remembered land-marks and been 
guided by them on the return. 
We traveled for an hour or so and knew if in 
the right direction we should be near the Esty 
plantation and the river. Finally realizing that 
we.were in the deep forest and not near any place 
of abode for miles, we sat down on a fallen tree 
trunk. We looked at each other and grinned, 
and mutually admitted we were lost. We had 
been cognizant of this for some time, but pride 
would not permit an acknowledgement one to 
the other. 
“Well Sam, my dear fellow, here we are; no 
grub, plenty of tobacco, no compass.” “Yes,” 
said Sam, “and a chance to s‘ay out most of the 
night, and when they find we have not returned, 
the whole coun'try-side will be alarmed, every¬ 
one will turn out who can blow a horn or shoot 
a gun, and when found there will be a great 
fuss over us, and a wonder why two such-ex¬ 
perienced sportsmen should lose their way. I 
’--ckon we might as well stay here until found; 
there is water, we will not die of thirst; there 
is tobacco to solace; there are matches, we will 
not freeze to death—now if we had s°m Q rushers 
of bacon and Joe’s pone bread and hot”—“Don't 
say any more, Sam—don’t mention the real un¬ 
obtainable—the good things of this life now.” 
We knew that Bobby and others would be look¬ 
ing for us in time, and we would be hunted up. 
It was the chance of staying out all night and 
until noon to-morrow, without anything to eat. 
or hot coffee to cheer. 
It was a little after four o’clock of the short 
wintry day; soon the woods would be darkening. 
To our left the ground was rising, and the tim¬ 
ber somewhat open. The tree trunk, on which 
we sat faced that way; we were conversing very 
little, and had made no movement for some 
time. The guns were leaning against the tree 
trunk to Sam’s left—loaded, and somewhat 
screened by the fallen branches. 
Then some hing remarkable happened. 1 
turned my head to speak and noticed Sam’s face 
flushed and eyes staring; he said in a dead tense 
whisper: 
“See the side of that ridge, don’t move, great 
Caesar’s ghost, they are turkeys 1 ” Moving in al¬ 
most uncertain light was a gang of the birds full 
hundred and fifty yards away. In this exciting 
moment and under the extraordinary conditions 
we did not know for the moment what action to 
take to prevent an alarm. The mental process 
worked fast. 
Slowly—very slowly, we leaned backward until 
clear of the tree trunk. Steadily, surely, Sam 
drew the guns over and placed them on the 
ground near at hand. We were now fairly well 
hidden by the tree trunk and branches. Slowly 
bringing our eyes to the level of the trunk—-at 
first we thought they had turned completely 
away from cur location. I fet sick at heart. Had 
we missed them? Sam nudged with his elbow, 
“Ycu take the bird to the right, if the Lord will 
let them this way,” he breathed. We could now 
see them quite plainly, moving slowly, pecking 
here and there, probably seventy-five yards away 
and headed for our place of concealment; the 
the guns were in hand across the trunk. Would 
they ever get nearer—what if they should turn 
off and away or take wing, a case of buck 
“ague.” Nearer—nearer. I could feel Sam 
tremble, and 1 think I was fumbling for the trig¬ 
ger in front of the trigger guard. Nearer—forty 
yards—thirty yards, we selected our birds. Sam 
pressed my arm (the signal to fire), the two 
reports were almost together. Instantly I covered 
a second bird—he fell with a broken wing—and 
made off at a lively pace. Sam gave the turkey 
'his second barrel. This turned him completely 
around and he ran directly toward us, though 
we were in plain sight, and fell over dead a few 
feet away. We afterward found this turkey was 
hit in the head, and blinded undoubtedly at the 
time of his queer antics. 
Three dead turkeys. “Yes,” said Sam, “the 
idiosyncracies of meleagris gallopcivo —Victor 
Hugo said ‘It is the unexpected that happens,’ 
and Charles Dickens has given us the blessed 
assurance that ‘good things come when least- 
expected.’ ” The excitement had been excessive; 
nerves strung to the limit, underclothing damp 
from perspiration. It was now getting quite 
dark; a fire was made, wood collected, prepara¬ 
tions to spend the night in the woods. 
We made a “lean to”—stripped some boughs 
for a pillow. We smoked and smoked to drive 
away hunger, and at last stretched out on the 
soft pine needles we slept. 
It was a little after midnight. I awoke chilled 
through. I kicked up the fire, threw on a lot of 
wood and had things looking cheerful and my¬ 
self thawed out. I thought it best to sit up and 
“nap it” and keep the fire going and not take 
cold. I kept a good fire going; this helped Sam 
to sleep, for he needed the rest. About four 
o’clock we heard the report of a gun. “What is 
that?” “Someone out looking us up.” “Fire a 
gun”—this was done—and the fire 'heaped up with 
dry-stuff to make a big blaze. Another report 
somewhat nearer we answered. Out of the dark¬ 
ness came Bobby and Alex; we were mighty glad 
to see each other. “Done see yo fire along befo 
we fire the gun,” said Bobby. “I make some coffee, 
got some biscuits and bacon—warm up de bacon 
on a stick befo the fire and soon have de coffee 
bilin’. Yoo alls must be powerful hungry, just at 
dis time,” and pretty soon Sam and I were of the 
belief that “good things really come when not 
expected.” Bobby went into paroxysms of delight 
when he saw the three turkeys, and heard the 
whole story of the accidental meeting. 
Sam’s foot having improved, we crossed the 
river one morning to get some snipe shooting. 
The place was a mile below our camp. By the 
time we arrived at a landing the sky became 
overcast, accompanied by a strong wind. The 
ground was a meadow marsh; across it back 
from the river was thick corn bushes, and sec¬ 
ond growth timber and small cane brake. We 
worked u>p wind. The birds flushed rather wild, 
under the influence of the heavy wind. We 
did fairly well, picking up eighteen birds. 
Many flushed out of range—some long and diffi¬ 
cult and very satisfactory shots were made. The 
dog worked pret‘y well, handled by Bobby. I 
had looked for fat, lazy birds, getting up at short 
range. The wind and cold caused them not to 
lie very close. At the first report of the guns 
quite a number of birds flushed in different parts 
of the meadow. Most of these birds came back 
to the feeding ground, and later we bagged a 
few more. 
Working up to the cover of second growth 
and bushes the dog went in and immediately 
came to a point. Sam went to the left of the 
dog and in among the trees. At once two wood¬ 
cock rose; he killed them both—two beautiful 
snap shots 
Fifteen miles or so down the river we went 
into camp, a beautiful place in a beach grove.' 
Here we had some pass duck shooting half mile 
above the camp. We had come to this place to 
further enjoy camping and camp life, and even¬ 
tually take the up-river steamer from here, it 
being a good place to handle the boats and outfit 
aboard. Sarri and I would walk about the coun¬ 
try, sometimes across the river. On one of 
these trips we found a turkey roost, and on two 
occasions went there well blinded, waiting for the 
birds to come in. They never came; we saw 
one fly across the river. We concluded the only 
way we could get turkey was to make no pre¬ 
paration, but just tramp through the woods, get 
lost and trust to the great birds coming our way. 
With a sigh of regret we turned our faces 
homeward. Sam’s noble heart has been stilled 
these many years; his hand—the hearty clasp, I 
can feel now—gone forever. Over and over I 
think of him, and the dear old days we were 
together in camp, afield and afloat. All past for¬ 
ever, and I am left alone to retrospect. 
THEN TIME TO STIR. 
Thomas Edison once set out to invent a per¬ 
fect coffee machine suitable to use in camps or 
on hunting trips. Asking the advice of a former 
guide as to the requirements of such a thing, the 
man, who was a Swede, gave him this recipe: 
“Der ban only von vay to cook coffee. Take 
von trip into voods up on Flambeau River; 
build fire vid pitchpine knots; put von quart 
water and two handful coffee in coffee pot, and 
sit on cover so she can’t boil over. Ven cover 
get too hot for pants coffee she done.” 
