"Oh, say! we've got to bring down at least one of those wild turkeys!" cried Andy.
"Keep quiet," admonished Jack, speaking in a whisper. "If those turkeys hear you they'll be gone in a jiffy."
"I didn't know there were any wild turkeys around here," remarked Randy. "I thought they had been all cleaned out long ago."
"They are getting very scarce," answered Uncle Barney, "but once in a while you will see a small flock of them. I was after that flock about a week ago, but they got away from me. I've a notion that it's about the last flock in this district."
While this talk was going on in low tones of voice, all of the Rovers had abandoned the bobsled and were moving toward the shore of the island.
"You had better come this way and crawl up in the shelter of yonder rocks and brushwood," advised Uncle Barney. "And don't shoot until you have a good aim and know what you're shooting at," he concluded.
It must be admitted that all of the boys were somewhat excited over the prospect ahead. They caught only a brief glance at the game, but felt certain that it was close at hand.
"Wild turkeys are a good sight better than rabbits or squirrels, or even pheasants," said Fred. "They'll make dandy eating."
"Don't eat them until after you have shot them, Fred," remarked Andy dryly.
"Hush," warned Jack. "Now, make as little noise as possible, and each of you hold his gun ready for use."