The Washington herald. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1906-1939, 1910-10-02

reconnoiter 10 the left and see II can't
slip up On that rocst' You've read OF
the condemned spy going 10 his death
with the smile OF scorn on his lips.
haven't you? Well. I'll guarantee YOU
that none such ever had 10 summon up
one-half the courage 10 make his grand
stand play that II required TO stay be-
hind and hold those long-eared hybrlds
while father Teconnoitered'
Cold chills chased one another ID and
down my spinal ,slIumn 50 fast couldn't
count EN-. I could feel my hair rise.
looked on the place as the scene Of my
doom But ! had 70 be game. Other tur-
key hunts were coming on in the future
under pleasanter circumstances, and 7
knew that II I contracted & brace OF con-
eealed pedal extremities in this pinch
] would likely stay at home with young
er boys In the future II took the last
yestige Of courage in my system 10 brace
up and say all right, that I'd stay behind
and mind those mules
so of wandered my turkey-hunting
parent, and away with him went my
hopes of ever reaching the camp alive
again. I figured that the chances Of nv
ever being seen alive again were about as
5 10 :. with the big end OF the odds
against me. II must have been about ten
minutes after the departure OF the old
man before anything happened. That is
anything outwardly in those woods. Dur
ing this wait nature seemed 10 my youth
ful mind 10 take charge OF the situation
and arrange the setting for something
pig.
The coyotes continued 10 howl from
the hilltops. and while ! knew there was
no harm in the lonesome plant OF the
half-starved creatures. still their walls
made NE creepy. Nighthawks wheeled
their way overhead, piercing the mid
night air with cries faint but fearsome.
had been raised out there, and such
sounds had no terrors in themselves. Il
was the contribution they msie 70 the
general scheme OF things on that par
ticular occasion that made me down
hearted. Far down the river could
hear the believing OF a lonely bull. ap-
parently lost from his herd. At frequent
intervals the moon came out from be-
hind her cloud curtain. lighting the scene
with a sickIy radiance. After this over
ture by the wild orchestra or nature
everything seemed 10 calm down and
grow perfectly still. Then IL happened.
a foghorn sound rent the midnight
calm-and then another. had never
heard anything so mournful and discon-
ISOLATE in my life. I haven't since. for
that matter. It seemed like the Shrek
ing Of some beleagured phantom hemmed
in by the lmps Of darkness. The sound
grew IN volume. and became more un-
earthly with the growing, Just as II a
whole menagerie had been Ioosed some
where off in the darkness and the uncon-
cerned mules and myself were destined 10
furnish meal for the hungry beasts.
COuId Hear Echoes.
"It was more than I could stand.
drew a long. sweeping intake OF breath
and by way Of relief raised my own pip
ing voice into the awful stiffness. You
may so far and search long and you
will not hear such another sound as the
yell which I added to the midnight din
Of that north Texas cottonwood grove.
I could hear the echoes among the foot
hills. They were awe-inspiring, but they
were human, and so I let out more.
Again and again I yelled, each time
growing louder than before. Shortly I
heard a shot. The CampbeIls were COM
ing. only they were father. Irate and
thoroughly disgusted-also with an empty
bag-my hunting instructor appeared on
the scene about two minutes afterward
and wanted to know what ] meant by
indulging in voice culture just when
he was slipping up on the finest turkey
roost I'm the Panhandle?
When ] made my explanations. fathers
chagrin and disgust gave way TO laughter.
The cause of my discontinue. he told
me after his wrath had died away, was
the boot of a screech-owl. AS I thought
it over I decided that that owl must have
been in cahoots with those turkeys.''