into a grassy glade, and, leaping off his horse, rifle in hand,
he prepared to shoot at something. Again Bo cried out, but this time it
was in delight. Then Helen saw an immense flock of turkeys, apparently
like the turkeys she knew at home, but these had bronze and checks
of white, and they looked wild. There must have been a hundred in the
flock, most of them hens. A few gobblers on the far side began the
flight, running swiftly off. Helen plainly heard the thud of their
feet. Roy shot once--twice--three times. Then rose a great commotion and
thumping, and a loud roar of many wings. Dust and leaves whirling in the
air were left where the turkeys had been.

"Wal, I got two," said Roy, and he strode forward to pick up his game.
Returning, he tied two shiny, plump gobblers back of his saddle and
remounted his horse. "We'll have turkey to-night, if Milt gets to camp
in time."

The ride was resumed. Helen never would have tired riding through those
oak groves, brown and sear and yellow, with leaves and acorns falling.

"Bears have been workin' in here already," said Roy. "I see tracks all
over. They eat acorns in the fall. An' mebbe we'll run into one yet."

The farther down he led the wilder and thicker grew the trees, so that
dodging branches was no light task. Ranger did not seem to care how
close he passed a tree or under a limb, so that he missed them himself;
but Helen thereby got some additional bruises. Particularly hard was it,
when passing a tree, to get her knee out of the way in time.

Roy halted next at what appeared a large green pond full of vegetation
and in places covered with a thick scum. But it had a current and an
outlet, proving it to be a huge, spring. Roy pointed down at a muddy
place.

"Bear-wallow. He heard us comin'. Look at thet little track. Cub track.
An' look at these scratches on this tree, higher 'n my head. An old
she-bear stood up, an' scratched them."

Roy sat his saddle and reached up to touch fresh marks on the tree.

"Woods's full of big bears," he said, grinning. "An' I take it
particular kind of this old she rustlin' off with her cub. She-bears
with cubs are dangerous."

The next place to stir Helen to enthusiasm was the glen at the bottom
of this canuon. Beech-trees, maples, aspens, overtopped by lofty
pines, made dense shade over a brook where trout splashed on the brown,
swirling current, and leaves drifted down, and stray flecks of golden
sunlight lightened the gloom.