catching the morning sun. Here Dale flushed a flock of wild
turkeys, upward of forty in number, and their subdued color
of gray flecked with white, and graceful, sleek build,
showed them to be hens. There was not a gobbler in the
flock. They began to run pell-mell out into the grass, until
only their heads appeared bobbing along, and finally
disappeared. Dale caught a glimpse of skulking coyotes that
evidently had been stalking the turkeys, and as they saw him
and darted into the timber he took a quick shot at the
hindmost. His bullet struck low, as he had meant it to, but
too low, and the coyote got only a dusting of earth and
pine-needles thrown up into his face. This frightened him so
that he leaped aside blindly to butt into a tree, rolled
over, gained his feet, and then the cover of the forest.
Dale was amused at this. His hand was against all the
predatory beasts of the forest, though he had learned that
lion and bear and wolf and fox were all as necessary to the
great scheme of nature as were the gentle, beautiful wild
creatures upon which they preyed. But some he loved better
than others, and so he deplored the inexplicable cruelty.

He crossed the wide, grassy plain and struck another gradual
descent where aspens and pines crowded a shallow ravine and
warm, sun-lighted glades bordered along a sparkling brook.
Here be heard a turkey gobble, and that was a signal for him
to change his course and make a crouching, silent detour
around a clump of aspens. In a sunny patch of grass a dozen
or more big gobblers stood, all suspiciously facing in his
direction, heads erect, with that wild aspect peculiar to
their species. Old wild turkey gobblers were the most