A lad was passing down the path in front of Colonel Zane's house as
Betty hailed him. He carried a rifle almost as long as himself.
"Mornin', Betty. I am goin' 'cross the crick fer that turkey I hear gobblin'," he answered, stopping at the gate and smiling brightly at Betty.
"Hello, Harry Bennet. Going after that turkey? I have heard him
several mornings and he must be a big, healthy gobbler," said
Colonel Zane, stepping to the door. "You are going to have company.
Here comes Wetzel."
"Good morning, Lew. Are you too off on a turkey hunt?" said Betty.
"Listen," said the hunter, as he stopped and leaned against the gate. They listened. All was quiet save for the tinkle of a cow-bell in the pasture adjoining the Colonel's barn. Presently the silence was broken by a long, shrill, peculiar cry.
"Chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug-chug."
"Well, it's a turkey, all right, and I'll bet a big gobbler," remarked Colonel Zane, as the cry ceased.
"Has Jonathan heard it?" asked Wetzel.
"Not that I know of. Why do you ask?" said the Colonel, in a low tone. "Look here, Lew, is that not a genuine call?"
"Goodbye, Harry, be sure and bring me a turkey," called Betty, as she disappeared.