at a living thing, and when I leveled my rifle it was impossible
to control my nerves.

The turkey seemed to jump up and down, and appeared to me to be as
big as a pony, when I looked at him along the rifle. Two or three
times I tried to hold the bead on him, but could not. Now I
wouldn't have missed killing him for anything, in reason, for I
feared that Uncle Kit and Mr. Hughes would laugh at me.

At last, however, the sights of my gun steadied long enough for me
to pull the trigger, and to my great delight--and I may as well
admit, surprise--Mr. Gobbler tumbled over dead when I fired, and
he was so heavy as to be a good load for me to carry to camp.

Now I was filled with confidence in myself, and became eager for a
shot at bigger game; antelope, deer or buffalo.

In a few days we passed Ft. Scott and then we were entirely beyond
the bounds of civilization.

From that on, until we reached our destination, the only living
things we saw were jack-rabbits, prairie-dogs, antelope, deer,
buffalo, sage-hens and Indians, barring, of course, insects,
reptiles and the like, and the little owls that live with the
prairie-dogs and sit upon the mounds of the dog villages, eyeing
affairs with seeming dignity and wisdom.

The owls seem to turn their heads while watching you, their bodies
remaining stationary, until, it has been said, you may wring their
heads off by walking around them a few times. I would not have my