Turkey Proudfoot stood in the farmyard and craned his neck in every direction. That sound certainly was close at hand. Yet there wasn't a turkey cock anywhere in sight, either on the ground or in the trees.
Just for a moment Turkey Proudfoot was worried.
"That wasn't my gobble, was it?" he asked the rooster. "If I gobbled, I didn't know it."
"No! You didn't gobble," said the rooster, "though I must say that gobbling[p. 40] sounded a good deal like yours."
"Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!"
"There it goes again!" cried Turkey Proudfoot. He was almost frantic. "How can I fight that fellow if I can't see him?" he cried. He looked up at the roof of the barn; but there was no one there except the gilded rooster that told which way the wind blew. He looked up at the roof of the farmhouse.
"You don't suppose that fellow's hiding in the chimney, do you?" he asked.
"No doubt he is," said the rooster. "If I were you I'd fly up there and catch him."
"The roof's high for one of my weight to fly to," Turkey Proudfoot remarked.
"Still, I could flap up to the top of the woodshed and get to the roof of the house from there.... I'll take a look and see how high the house seems when I'm near it."