light showing
down in rays and gleams. While hunting I always liked to sit down here
and there to listen and watch. Copple liked this too. So we sat down.
Opposite us the rocky edge of the other slope was about two hundred
yards. We listened to jays and squirrels. I made note of the significant
fact that as soon as we began to hunt Copple became silent.

Presently my roving eye caught sight of a moving object. It is movement
that always attracts my eye in the woods. I saw a plump, woolly beast
walk out upon the edge of the opposite slope and stand in the shade.

"Copple, is that a sheep?" I whispered, pointing. "Lion--no, big lynx,"
he replied. I aimed and shot just a little too swiftly. Judging by the
puff of dust my bullet barely missed the big cat. He leaped fully
fifteen feet. Copple fired, hitting right under his nose as he alighted.
That whirled him back. He bounced like a rubber ball. My second shot
went over him, and Copple's hit between his legs. Then with another
prodigious bound he disappeared in a thicket. "By golly! we missed him,"
declared Copple. "But you must have shaved him that first time. Biggest
lynx I ever saw."

We crossed the canyon and hunted for him, but without success. Then we
climbed an open grassy forest slope, up to a level ridge, and crossed
that to see down into a beautiful valley, with stately isolated pines,
and patches of aspens, and floor of luxuriant grass. A ravine led down
into this long park and the mouth of it held a thicket of small pines.
Just as we got half way out I saw bobbing black objects above the high
grass. I peered sharply. These objects were turkey heads. I got a shot
before Copple saw them. There was a bouncing, a whirring, a
thumping--and then turkeys appeared to be running every way.

Copple fired. "Turkey number one!" he called out. I missed a big gobbler
on the run. Copple shot again. "Turkey number two!" he called out. I
could not see what he had done, but of course I knew he had done
execution. It roused my ire as well as a desperate ambition. Turkeys
were running up hill everywhere. I aimed at this one, then at that.
Again I fired. Another miss! How that gobbler ran! He might just as well
have flown. Every turkey contrived to get a tree or bush between him and
me, just at the critical instant. In despair I tried to hold on the last
one, got a bead on it through my peep sight, moved it with him as we
moved, and holding tight, I fired. With a great flop and s