The Washington herald. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1906-1939, 1910-10-02
THE WILD TURKEYS FRIEND
In the Gloomy Texas Bottoms His Unearhy Yell Scared the
Life Out of the Boy HuntSman

It's been many long day since got
a real thrill from the chase" observed
the Texan. after he Ead ordered another
round OF refreshments for the obvious
purpose of holding his audience. Now,
the Texan wasn't given 10 extravaganza
In the matter Of words, or anything else.
for that matter, and so We took another
strangle hold on our interest and re-
solved to stick out the session II
wouldn't be long. we knew
The kind OF thrill I mean is the one
that comes when you're forced 10 play
catcher instead Of pitcher IN the great
game OF hunting the tiger" our man
went on. plunging into his narrative.
Not that I've ever been actually hunted
by the royal Bengal brand; I've had the
sensation. though. It's just as good and
satisfactory fer all ordinary and useful
purposes.
A PARKWAY Cry.
Tt was a far cry from here, the region
was. and the day a long way back in the
past-North Texas and the time Of my
small boyhood. Like every other boy
OF that cline and time. al the age when
he began trying 10 learn bronco busting
by riding the calves, thought that the
sum total Of human happiness was 10 be
found in a turkey hunt. I was not near
big enough 10 shoulder the old ten-pound-
er shotgun and go in search Of the big,
toothsome bird alone. but manys the boy
hood hour I spent trudging along in the
wake OF my father or a big brother on a
still hunt through wooded creek bottoms
where homed the quarry. And they were
right plentiful in that day. I'm telling
you, and in certain sections Of the Pan
handle are yet. for that matter
But I was thinking of one particular
turkey hunt. l shall never forget that
night. 1t was late in autumn The Wild
dry south wind howled and moaned
among the scared treetops like a lost soul
adrift in the darkness. Thin clouds
reached their ghostly arms across the
face of the moon and went flying of into
space. dragging their dark shadows over
the earth after them; the lonely coyote
sat on some distant hill and weirdly
howled TO himself. Nature. I can see
now, had set a fine stage for my boyisn
adventure
Weird Weather Phase.
Il was Jogging down 10 the creek bot
toms in a numbering old farm wagon.
with father holding the reins. and the
shotgun between his knees. In the course
Of that jogging had ample time to take
in the eird phases OF the weather and
the scenery. 1 remember that hadn I
much wanted 10 go-something unusual
for boy of my turn. Maybe It was a
presentiment that something uncomfort-
able might develop. or maybe 1t was just
the weather on that blacklsh, gloomy
night. But l had at length allowed ell
thusiasm 10 get the better of Juvenile
Judgment, and so late that evening. 81
the end of the long ride. found myself
gathering wood for our camp fire In the
loneliest spot OF all that lonely bottom.
Supper over. father and my small self
mounted the two mules and hit out
through the woods. That turkey roost
was a discovery Of the old mans, and
remember that he was In a mighty haste
TO reach the spot and lay claim TO the
feathered spells before they were found
by some other chance hunter of that
No Mans Land. ! knew this. and so I
tried TO live down an awful feeling with
which the woods inspired me. PRESENT.
ment or whatever 1t was. Several times
I felt mighty like suggesting to father
that we right about. beat 1t back to
camp before tempting fate any further
and leave turkey hunting to those more
sportively inclined. or at least to some
other night.
Here we are observed father, rolling
of his mule in the shadow of a big. ugly.
half-dead cottonwood tree. l thought al
the time that I had never seen a human
being so cool in the face of danger. The
next observation that he uttered came
like the pronouncement of a sentence 10
the electric chair.
=" You hold the mules it ran, and III