WILD TURKEYS.
Without delay the Rover boys dropped behind the bushes, and John Barrow
did the same. All kept as quiet as possible, for they knew that on the
first alarm the wild turkeys would be off.
The game was not over six feet from the ground, sitting in three rows on
as many branches of a hemlock that overhung the stream. There were over
a dozen in the flock, each as plump as wild turkeys ever get.
"How shall we fire?" asked Dick. "There is no call for all of us to
shoot at the same bird."
"I'll take one on the left," answered John Barrow. "You take one on the
right. Tom can take a middle one sitting high, and Sam a middle one
sitting low. All ready?"
"Yes," came the answer, from one after another.
"Then fire when I say three. One, two--three!"
Bang! bang! went the firearms, and as the reports echoed through the
forest, two of the wild turkeys were seen to drop dead under the
branches upon which they had been sitting. One, that was badly wounded,
fluttered down and began to thrash around in the brush.
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