brush. And guided by
the _thump-thump-thump_ which once in a while boomed upon his ears, at
last Turkey Proudfoot came into a little clearing.

There on a log sat a speckly, feathered, short-necked gentleman with a
tail spread in much the fashion in which Turkey Proudfoot so often
carried his own.

Turkey Proudfoot drew back behind a bush, out of sight.

"I'll show that bird a tail that _is_ a tail," he muttered to himself.
So he spread his tail and then stepped proudly forth. A dry twig snapped
beneath his weight. At that sound the stranger on the log turned his
head quickly. Just for an instant there was an eager look on his face.
But when he beheld Turkey Proudfoot it changed to one of
disappointment.

"Who are you?" the stranger asked in none too pleasant a tone.

"I'm Turkey Proudfoot," said the ruler of the farmyard. "I live down the
hill at Farmer Green's place."

"Then you'd better go home where you belong," said the stranger on the
log. "I was expecting some one. I've been drumming for a friend. And
when I heard you step on that dry twig I thought she'd come. I had my
tail spread in her honor."

"Drum again!" Turkey Proudfoot ordered. "Call your friend at once and
I'll show her a tail that is a tail. Yours is no bigger than Mrs.
Green's fan."

The stranger made no move to obey. He appeared somewhat sulky.

"What's your name?" Turkey Proudfoot demanded.

"I'm Mr. Grouse," the stranger snapped out. "I supposed everybody in
Pleasant Valley knew me. My drumming is famous."

"Indeed!" said Turkey Proudfoot. "I thought it was Johnnie Green making
that noise."

"No wonder!" Mr. Grouse sniffed. "You're only a barnyard fowl. You can't
be expected to know anything about us game birds."

XVII

A GAME BIRD

Mr. Grouse moved back and forth upon his log in the clearing in the
woods. And casting a withering glance at Turkey Proudfoot, he said,
"It's plain that you don't know what a game bird is. Men--and boys,
too--come into the woods with guns to hunt us. And we make game of them
by rising swiftly with a loud _whir_ and flying off before they have
time to shoot us."

Turkey Proudfoot gaped at Mr. Grouse.

"Don't they ever hit you?" he faltered.

"They've never shot me," said Mr. Grouse. "Once a hunter knocked out
one of my tail feathers. But that was only an accident."

[Illustration: Turkey Proudfoot Has a Chat with Mr. Grouse. (_Page_ 80)]

"I shouldn't care to be a game bird," Turkey Pro