“‘How is it, Jake?’ inquired one sportsman, who, although a good shot, and knew something about hunting, was often unfortunate, ‘that you never come home without a lot of birds?’
“Jake grinned, half closed his eyes, and replied: ‘Oh, I don’t know that there’s anything queer about it. I jes’ go ahead an’ git ‘em.’
“‘Yes, I know you do; but how do you do it?’
“‘You’ll tell.’
“‘Honest, Jake, I won’t say a word. Hope to drop dead this minute.’
“‘Never say nothing, if I tell you?’
“‘Cross my heart three times.’
“This reassured Jake, who put his mouth close to the ear of his eager questioner, and said, in a whisper:
“‘All you got to do is jes’ to hide in a fence corner an’ make a noise like a turnip. That’ll bring the chickens every time.’”