The Rover Boys on Snowshoe Island Part 33

The little cabin was closed up, and then the party made its way down over the rough rocks and between the trees to the lake sh.o.r.e. It was no easy matter to bring the bobsled along, and once Fred slipped on one of the smooth rocks and pitched headlong into a s...o...b..nk.

"Hi you! stop your fooling!" cried Andy, and then, in great glee, he picked up a chunk of snow and hurled it at Jack.

"Let up!" cried the oldest Rover boy. "This is no time for jokes!" and then, as Andy came at him with another chunk of snow, he jumped at his cousin, put out his foot, and made the fun-loving youth measure his length in a drift.

"Wow! but that snow is cold!" cried Andy, who had gotten some down the sleeves of his sweater. "Stop! Don't bury me! I'll be good!" And then he scrambled to his feet once more, while Fred did the same. Then the whole party proceeded on its way.

Reaching the lake, they lost no time in putting on their skates, and then, with Uncle Barney leading the way, the four Rovers followed, dragging the loaded bobsled behind them.

On all sides could be seen snowdrifts and ridges of snow piled in curiously fantastic shapes. But the keen wind of the afternoon and night had cleared many long reaches of the ice, and over these reaches Uncle Barney picked his way, gradually working closer and closer to the upper end of Snowshoe Island.

"We'll turn in here," he announced presently, when they came to where there was something of a cove. "There seems to be quite a cleared s.p.a.ce.

It won't be very long now before we reach the upper end."

As they turned in once more toward the island, Jack noticed a peculiar fluttering among some trees not far away.

"Wait a minute!" he cried out in a low tone. "I think I see some game!"

All came to a halt, and then Uncle Barney looked in the direction to which the oldest Rover boy pointed.

"You are right, my lad," answered the old lumberman. "There is a fine chance for all of you."

"What are they?" questioned Fred a trifle excitedly.

"Wild turkeys! And the best kind of eating--if you can only get close enough to bring them down."

CHAPTER XXIII

UNEXPECTED VISITORS

"Oh, say! we've got to bring down at least one of those wild turkeys!"

cried Andy.

"Keep quiet," admonished Jack, speaking in a whisper. "If those turkeys hear you they'll be gone in a jiffy."

"I didn't know there were any wild turkeys around here," remarked Randy.

"I thought they had been all cleaned out long ago."

"They are getting very scarce," answered Uncle Barney, "but once in a while you will see a small flock of them. I was after that flock about a week ago, but they got away from me. I've a notion that it's about the last flock in this district."

While this talk was going on in low tones of voice, all of the Rovers had abandoned the bobsled and were moving toward the sh.o.r.e of the island.

"You had better come this way and crawl up in the shelter of yonder rocks and brushwood," advised Uncle Barney. "And don't shoot until you have a good aim and know what you're shooting at," he concluded.

It must be admitted that all of the boys were somewhat excited over the prospect ahead. They caught only a brief glance at the game, but felt certain that it was close at hand.

"Wild turkeys are a good sight better than rabbits or squirrels, or even pheasants," said Fred. "They'll make dandy eating."

"Don't eat them until after you have shot them, Fred," remarked Andy dryly.

"Hush," warned Jack. "Now, make as little noise as possible, and each of you hold his gun ready for use."

They had not stopped to take off their skates, but this was unnecessary, for the snow was deep and the skates merely kept them from slipping.

They pushed on around some large rocks, and then in between the thick brushwood, where the snow fell upon their heads and shoulders, covering them with white--something which was to their advantage, as it aided them in hiding themselves from the game. Not far away they could hear the wild turkeys, one in particular giving the peculiar gobble by which they are well known.

"I see them," whispered Fred a minute later, and pointed with his gun.

There in a little clearing some distance ahead was a tall and long turkey gobbler surrounded by a number of hens. They were plump and of a peculiar black and bronzed color.

"Let's all fire together. Maybe we can bring down the whole flock!"

exclaimed Randy, and his manner showed that he was growing quite excited.

"All right--I'm willing," answered Jack. "But let us see if we can't get a little nearer first."

"Maybe if we try to get closer they'll get away from us," said Andy.

"Keep your guns pointed at them, and if they start to leave fire as quickly as you can," answered Jack, and then he moved forward with his cousins ranged on either side of him.

The Rover boys had advanced but a few paces when the wild turkeys caught sight of them. The turkey c.o.c.k issued a loud note of alarm, and all started to fly from the low bushes upon which they had been resting.

"Fire!" yelled Jack, and discharged his rifle.

The crack of this weapon was followed by the report of Fred's shotgun, and then the twins also let drive. Then Fred fired again, and so did some of the others.

At the first report the turkey c.o.c.k was seen to rise in the air, followed by some of the hens, while two hens dropped lifeless in the snow. The turkey c.o.c.k, however, was seriously wounded and fluttered around in a circle.

"Give him another shot!" yelled Fred, whose gun was empty; and thereupon Jack and Randy fired and the gobbler fell directly at their feet. He was not yet dead, but they quickly put him out of his misery by wringing his neck. By this time the hens which had flown away were out of sight.

"Two hens and one gobbler!" cried Jack, as he surveyed the game. "I think we can congratulate ourselves on this haul."

"You certainly can!" exclaimed Uncle Barney, as he plowed up behind the boys. "Wild turkeys are no mean game to bring down, let me tell you!

I've tried time and again to get a turkey, and somehow or other it would always get away from me."

"Some size to this gobbler!" remarked Fred. "And some weight, too," he added, as he picked the turkey c.o.c.k up by the legs.

"He'll weigh sixteen or eighteen pounds at least," said the old lumberman, as he took the turkey c.o.c.k from the youngest Rover boy and held the game out in both hands. "Yes, sir! every bit of eighteen--and he may go twenty. You'll have a dandy meal off of him."

"I know what I'd like to do," said Randy wistfully. "I'd like to send him home to the folks."

"That's the talk!" returned his twin. "Why can't we do it?"

"I'm willing," answered Jack. "The express company ought to know how to pack game like that so it will carry properly."

"They'll pack anything you want them to down at the railroad station,"