At the first report the turkey cock was seen to rise in the air, followed by some of the hens, while two hens dropped lifeless in the snow. The turkey cock, however, was seriously wounded and fluttered around in a circle.
"Give him another shot!" yelled Fred, whose gun was empty; and thereupon Jack and Randy fired and the gobbler fell directly at their feet. He was not yet dead, but they quickly put him out of his misery by wringing his neck. By this time the hens which had flown away were out of sight.
"Two hens and one gobbler!" cried Jack, as he surveyed the game. "I think we can congratulate ourselves on this haul."
"You certainly can!" exclaimed Uncle Barney, as he plowed up behind the boys. "Wild turkeys are no mean game to bring down, let me tell you! I've tried time and again to get a turkey, and somehow or other it would always get away from me."
"Some size to this gobbler!" remarked Fred. "And some weight, too," he added, as he picked the turkey cock up by the legs.
"He'll weigh sixteen or eighteen pounds at least," said the old lumberman, as he took the turkey cock from the youngest Rover boy and held the game out in both hands. "Yes, sir! every bit of eighteen—and he may go twenty. You'll have a dandy meal off of him."
"I know what I'd like to do," said Randy wistfully. "I'd like to send him home to the folks."
"That's the talk!" returned his twin. "Why can't we do it?"
"I'm willing," answered Jack. "The express company ought to know how to pack game like that so it will carry properly."
"They'll pack anything you want them to down at the railroad station," said Uncle Barney. "There is a man there who makes a specialty of that sort of thing for hunters. He'll see that the turkey reaches your folks in New York in first-class shape."