“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 canon.”

“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.”

“They have to get a running start.  Then they usually flop along and sail up into a tree.  Once they are in a tree, they can float off into space easily.  They seem to fly slowly, but they can disappear fast enough.  The ranger seems to be a nice chap.”

“Did he really give the turkey to us?”

“It was hanging right here when I came out.  I can’t say that he gave it to us.  You see, it is closed season for turkey.”

“But we must thank him.”

“We will.  Let’s ask him to dinner.  He seems to be a pleasant chap; quite natural.  He said we were welcome to keep our horses in his corral.  But if you want to have him for a real friendly neighbor, Dorothy, don’t mention the word ‘turkey.’  We’ll just roast it, make biscuits and gravy, and ask him to dinner.  He will understand.”

“Then I am going to keep the wings and tail to put on the wall of my room.  How funny, not to thank a person for such a present.”

“The supervisor would reprimand him for killing game out of season, if he heard about it.”

“But just one turkey?”

“That isn’t the idea.  If it came to Mr. Shoop that one of his men was breaking the game laws, Mr. Shoop would have to take notice of it.  Not that Shoop would care about one of his men killing a turkey to eat, but it would hurt the prestige of the Service.  The natives would take advantage of it and help themselves to game.”

“Of course, you know all about those matters.  But can’t I even say ‘turkey’ when I ask him to have some?”