The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1907-11-24
THE SALT LAKE HERALD: SUNDAY, NOVEMBER "A. 1907


fenseless turkey while it is being |
meanly assassinated."
And l suppose Anna would give no.
tice on the spot and go up to pack hef |
trunk if l so much as limited that | ex-
pected her to hold IL A nice way to |
kill a turkey, isn't it? You expect me |
to hold the bird with one hand and saw
its head off with a carving knife with
the other. And a turkey as big as an
emu, at THAR
why don't you shoot it, asked Mr..
Foster
Arthur eheered up Immediately
TN do that" he chied. Just wait
until l go up and get my revolver and
I'll be right down.
He disappeared into the house. The
turkey calmly poked its head between
the Stats of the cage and picked bite
of something from the ground. Arthur
returned with his revolver.
Now" he said. cooking it. Then he
walked up to the turkey and looked at
it. L wonder where this birds heart
would be, anyway" he said anxiously
Il don't want to rouse the whole neigh
borhood and have the police down upon
us for cruelty to animals. l don't want
to shoot this bird full of holes and then
only half kill it. If 1 knew where the
heart was"
q It's heart is in the highlands,
quoted Mr.. Foster cheerily. Shoot 1t
in the highlands, Wilbur
Arthur got on his kEees beside the
cage and pointed theDrevolver at the
side of the turkey. The turkey stuck its
head between the Stats and looked at
Arthur with curiosity. Mrs. Wilbur
covered her ears with her hands, and
Arthur closed his eyes and pulled the
trigger. Nothing happened. He opened
his eyes and looked at the revolver.
There were no cartridges in it.
4 tell you what" he said, getting
up, Il can't shoot that turkey. / can't
shoot it that way. / feel like a muir
derer. If 1 could let it out of the cage,
and give it a fair start. / shouldn't
feel so much like an assassin, but l
couldn't hit it then 1 feel like man
who would load a cannon and then lead
a helpless little squirrel up in front of
| it. / can't shoot that turkey"
well, Arthur" said Amelia, you
will have to kill it some way, and soon,
too. 1t has to be picked and cleaned
and stuffed after you kill il. and it is
now about o'clock. And a bird that
size will have to cook for three hours.
| That will make it Z o'clock, at least,
| if you kill it this very minute, before
we have dinner. If we are to have
| L
key in the oven"
| She stopped speaking and looked at
Arthur aghast.
why. Why" she faltered. "Why!
| We can't get that turkey in our oven!
| Our oven viii only hold twelve-pOund
| turkey"
Arthur sat down on the steps and
| twirled the revolver around his thumb.
He said nothing, but the way he looked
at the gravel walk was enough.
Mr.. Foster stood up. 1t was evident
/ ly no moment for a born New Yorker
to intrude on the privacy of a suburban
family. "Oh, by GeorgeI" he exclaimed.
You have a telephone. haven't you,
Wilbur? 1 just this moment thought
of a man I want to telephone to-"
You are not going home, are you?"
asked Arthur without spirit.
| Homer" laughed Mr.. Foster. I live
in a hotel. l have no home. No, sir,
am having the time Of my life-I am
going to stay here and eat turkey if l
have to stay until Christmas. l am go
ing to see this thing through"
Isn't he fine?' said Mrs. Wilbur,
ecstaticaIly, which is next door to hys-
| terically.
HE is" answered Arthur, without a
smile, but what are we going to do
!
up in pieces. some way, and brOil it,
OF stew it. or something?"
You silly" she laughed And it
isn't dead yet, anyway"
They were still thinking hard, and
Anna was looking on with wide open
eyes and thinking how different are the
customs of Poland and America, when
Mr.. Foster came out, dropping his
watch into his vest pocket as he came.
| Wilbur" he said. do you mind
walking over to the station with me?
"Oh! You are not going?" cried Mrs.
Wilbur. Il can get I'D something for
dinner. We have steak and
STEAK on Thanksgiving day" ex-
claimed Mr. Foster. No. indeed, You
see, l don't mean to go back TO town,
1 just want to walk over to the station
and be there when next train pulls IN
/ telephoned over to the hotel in New
York and Stickley, he's the manager, is
sending over a roast turkey"
Mister Foster!" cried Mrs. Wilbur
and he could have taken it to mean that
he was interfering in matters that did
not concern him and that his interior
ence was resented, or he could have Ia
ken it to mean that in Mrs. Wilbur
! estimation he was a bit the most
thoughtful man in New York, and
something in the glistening of her eyes
assured him that his interference was
not resented, at least.
So the two men walked over to the
station and Mrs. Wilbur turned to An
ma and told her TO go in and lay the ia
blecloth for dinner.
Anna smiled her ever fatuous smile
and hesitated.
"Ain't you not goin' kill the big
goose?" she asked.
(Copyright)