Again the sound came to them, and, peering at the log, they saw the drummer at work. Hopping to the top of the fallen tree-trunk, he stood for a moment, with crest erect, looking about him. Then, spreading his tail and dragging the tips of his wings along the log, he strutted proudly to and fro. Stopping suddenly, he spread his wings and began lustily beating the air. Beginning slowly, he moved his wings faster and faster, raising himself on his toes in the effort, until the beats became so rapid that the thud of each stroke was blended with the one before, and a dull, continuous rumble, as of distant thunder, was the result. When he finished he jumped down on the opposite side of the log and disappeared from the sight of his charmed audience.
“Wasn’t that great?” whispered George. “We certainly walked him down, all right, didn’t we?”
“Yes, but keep quiet; I’m going to try to get a picture,” declared Ed, looking longingly toward the shelter of a small evergreen that stood within a few feet of the log on which the grouse had drummed.
“You’ll never get there without his seeing or hearing you,” warned George.
Further whisperings were cut short by the second appearance of the bird on the log. Again the boys lay fascinated, as he went through his interesting performance. When it was finished, they turned their heads and looked at each other comprehendingly. From close by had come a reply, a challenge to his boastful call.
It was evident that he heard and understood the answer of his rival. For a moment he stood boldly erect, turning his head for some sign of his enemy, his tail feathers spread fan-like, and his wings half drooping. From time to time he raised and lowered the feathers on his crown, and the stiff, ruff-like collar about his neck stood out with anger. The boys fancied they could almost see the flash of his eyes as he waited for the challenger to appear. Once more he sent his call thundering through the woods, and again the answer came back, this time closer at hand.
An indistinct, shadowy something roared past, and the watchers dodged involuntarily. It landed with a thud among the dried leaves, and they saw at once that it was a second grouse come to do battle with the first.
“Oh, for a picture!” breathed Ed.
“Be still; we’re going to see something worth watching in a few minutes,” cautioned George, in a scarcely audible whisper.
Nor were they long left in doubt about it, for the two feathered rivals, after a little warlike strutting, attacked each other with beak and spurs. Like barn-yard roosters, they jumped at one another, striking and pecking, in a fast and furious battle for supremacy. The sympathy of the boys was entirely with the one they had stalked. The other had come looking for trouble. That he was getting it in generous quantities seemed only proper to the partial audience behind the rock.