R.C. wanted me to slip on alone, but I preferred to have him and Romer go too.  So we slipped stealthily upward until we reached the level.  Then progress was easier.  I went to the left with the rifle, and R.C. with the .20-gauge, and Romer, went around to the right.  How rapidly it was growing dark!  Low down in the forest I could not distinguish objects.  We circled that big pine tree, and I made rather a wide detour, perhaps eighty yards from it.  At last I got the upper part of the dead pine silhouetted against the western sky.  Moving to and fro I finally made out a large black lump way out upon a spreading branch.  Could that be the gobbler?  I studied that dark enlarged part of the limb with great intentness, and I had about decided that it was only a knot when I saw a long neck shoot out.  That lump was the wise old turkey all right.  He was almost in the top of the tree and far out from the trunk.  No wild cat or lynx could ever surprise him there!  I reflected upon the instinct that governed him to protect his life so cunningly.  Safe he was from all but man and gun!

When I came to aim at him with the rifle I found that I could see only a blur of sights.  Other branches and the tip of a very high pine adjoining made a dark background.  I changed my position, working around to where the background was all open sky.  It proved to be better.  By putting the sights against this open sky I could faintly see the front sight through the blurred ring.  It was a good long shot even for daylight, and I had a rifle I knew nothing about.  But all the difficulty only made a keener zest.  Just then I heard Romer cry out excitedly, and then R.C. spoke distinctly.  Far more careless than that they began to break twigs under their feet.  The gobbler grew uneasy.  How he stretched out his long neck!  He heard them below.  I called out low and sharp:  “Stand still!  Be quiet!” Then I looked again through the blurred peep-sight until I caught the front sight against the open sky.  This done I moved the rifle over until I had the sight aligned against the dark shape.  Straining my eyes I held hard—­then fired.  The big dark lump on the branch changed shape, and fell, to alight with a sounding thump.  I heard Romer running, but could not see him.  Then his high voice pealed out:  “I got him, Dad.  You made a grand peg!”

Not only had Romer gotten him, but he insisted on packing him back to camp.  The gobbler was the largest I ever killed, not indeed one of the huge thirty-five pounders, but a fat, heavy turkey, and quite a load for a boy.  Romer packed him down that steep slope in the dark without a slip, for which performance I allowed him to stay up a while around the camp-fire.