I ran quickly up, and to my surprise I saw that it was a fine turkey, a big gobbler. "My! won't this make the boys open their eyes and their mouths too," I mused to myself.
Picking up the turkey I continued hunting back towards the receding wall of the canyon. After a half hour's climb over rocks and through brush I came to a dark, narrow slit running westward through the wall of the canyon.
I decided not to go any further and perhaps it was just as well. Something made me turn around, and I took up the trail for the camp. I had not gone far before I knew that I was being watched and followed.
Once I caught sight of a stealthy figure crawling from bush to bush. I was not greatly concerned, for I did not think that the object of the Indian was an attack, but simply to stalk me, and find out my business.
When I reached camp, I found Tom and Jim busy getting supper. They glanced up as I approached. I had fastened the turkey behind me in my belt.
"You're a mighty hunter," jeered Jim. "Got nothing but exercise as usual."
"Just bad luck. I'm sorry, boys," I replied meekly.
"What's the use of being sorry?" growled Tom. "I'm tired of eating nothing but jerked venison. I want a change of diet."
"You do, you old growler," I exclaimed. "Take that," and I swatted him over the head with the turkey.
Tom nearly fell over with the shock and the surprise of seeing a real turkey.