“Don’t chase it,” she kept saying. “Don’t chase it. You’ll run all the fat off it.”
“You stay down here, Ward, to head him off,” directed Fred. “We’ll go up and get him started, and when you hear me telling you to open the door, you do it slowly. We only want to drive him back to the coop.”
Ward seemed to understand. He took up his station by the door which Fred closed as he followed the rest up the attic stairs.
“There’s Mr. Williamson whistling,” said Ward. “I’ll bet he’s ready to go. He doesn’t know where we are.”
“I’ll go and tell him,” promised Mrs. Pepper. “You stay right where you are, Ward. He’ll wait for you when he knows you’re doing something to help me. I couldn’t get that turkey out of the attic alone in a month of Sundays.”
Mrs. Pepper hurried off. She was short and stout, and Ward had to admit that she would have found turkey-chasing hard work with no younger feet and hands to help her.
Ward, listening at the door, heard the sound of quick footsteps over his head, a shout from Fred and a burst of laughter from Artie. Then the footsteps began to run, and Ward guessed correctly that they were chasing the turkey over the attic floor. Margy gave an excited shriek, and then an avalanche seemed to be coming down the uncarpeted stairs.
“Open the door!” called Fred. “Open it, quick!”
Ward was so excited that he forgot to open the door slowly. He flung it back with a jerk and an angry and frightened turkey spread its wings and sailed over his head, while Fred, stumbling, fell over Artie and the two boys and Jess came down in a heap on the protesting Ward.
“Catch him!” cried Polly, from the top of the stairs. “He’s going downstairs again. Catch him!”