They scattered and ran. He followed
as fast as he could, shooting a few times. Copple could not keep up with
him, but evidently had a few shots himself. R.C. chased most of the
flock across several small canyons, till he came to a deep canyon. Here
he hoped to make a killing when the turkeys ran up the far slope. But
they flew across! And he heard them clucking over there. He crossed, and
went on cautiously. Once he saw three turkey heads sticking above a log.
Wise old gobblers! They protected their bodies while they watched for
him. He tried to get sidewise to them but they ran off. Then he followed
until once more he heard clucking.
Here he sat down, just beyond the edge of a canyon, and began to call
with his turkey wing. It thrilled him to hear his calls answered on all
sides. Here was a wonderful opportunity. He realized that the turkeys
were mostly young and scattered, and frightened, and wanted to come
together. He kept calling, and as they neared him on all sides he felt
something more than the zest of hunting. Suddenly Copple began to shoot.
Spang! Spang! Spang! R.C. saw the dust fly under one turkey. He heard
the bullet glance. The next shot killed a turkey. Then R.C. yelled that
he was no turkey! Then of that scattering flock he managed to knock over
one for himself.
Copple had been deceived by the call of an amateur.
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