the high bough of a tree. He knew them. They were welcome
blots. They were wild turkeys that had found what had seemed to
be a secure roosting place in the swamp.

Tom knew that the meat of the little bear was nearly exhausted,
and here was more food come to their hand. "We're five pow'ful
feeders, an' we'll need you," he murmured, looking up at the
turkeys, " but you kin rest thar till nearly mornin'."

He knew that the turkeys would not stir, and he went back to the
hut to resume his watch. just before the first dawn he awoke
Henry.

"Henry," he said, "a lot uv foolish wild turkeys hev gone to rest
on the limb of a tree not twenty yards from this grand manshun uv
ourn. 'Pears to me that wild turkeys wuz made fur hungry fellers
like us to eat. Kin we risk a shot or two at 'em, or is it too
dangerous?"

"I think we can risk the shots," said Henry, rising and taking
his rifle. " We're bound to risk something, and it's not likely
that Indians are anywhere near."

They slipped from the cabin, leaving the other three still sound
asleep, and stepped noiselessly among the trees. The first pale
gray bar that heralded the dawn was just showing in the cast.

"Thar they are," said Tom Ross, pointing at the dozen dark blots
on the high bough.