"And if he's the right kind of a hombre he won't talk about it," thought Lorry as he returned to his camp. "And if he ain't, I am out one fine bird, and I'll know to watch out for him."
Chapter XXI
A Slim Whip of a Girl
When Bronson opened his door to the thin sunlight and the crisp chill of the morning, he chuckled. He had made too many camps in the outlands to be surprised by an unexpected gift of game out of season. His neighbor was a ranger, and all rangers were incidentally game wardens. Bronson believed heartily in the conservation of game, and in this instance he did not intend to let that turkey spoil.
He called to his daughter.
Her brown eyes grew big. "Why, it's a turkey!"
Bronson laughed. "And to-day is Sunday. We'll have a housewarming and invite the ranger to dinner."
"Did he give it to you? Isn't it beautiful! What big wings—and the breast feathers are like little bronze flames! Do wild turkeys really fly?"
"Well, rather. It's a fine sight to see them run to a rim rock and float off across a cañon."
"Did you tell him about our horses? Is he nice? What did he say? But I could never imagine a turkey like that flying. I always think of turkeys as strutting around a farmyard with their heads held back and all puffed out in front. This one is heavy! I can't see how he could even begin to fly."