which was common to them both.
"Say, Grandpa," he urged, "go hunting to-morrow and try to kill a
turkey for Thanksgiving, won't you? I know grandma would feel better
to have one, and if you make a cane caller, like papa does, I'll bet
you can get a shot at one sure."

The old man did not commit himself about going, but when Walter saw
him surreptitiously take down his gun from the pegs on the wall across
which it had lain for so many years, and began to rub the barrels and
oil the hammers, he went home satisfied that he had scored another
victory.

Perhaps nothing less than his grandson's pleading could have induced
Grandpa Davis to visit again the old hunting-ground which had been so
dear to him in bygone days, which was so rich in hallowed memories. It
seemed almost a desecration of the happy past to hunt there now alone.

The first cold streaks of dawn were just stealing into the sky the
next morning when, accoutred with shot-pouch, powder-flask, and his
old double-barrelled gun, Grandpa Davis made his way toward the
branch. A medley of bird notes filled the air, long streamers of gray
moss floated out from the swaying trees, and showers of autumn leaves
fluttered down to earth. Some of the cows were grazing outside the
pen, up to their hocks in lush, fresh grass, while others lay on the
ground contentedly chewing their cuds. All of them raised their heads
and looked at him as he passed them by.

How like old times it was to be up at daybreak for a hunt! The long
years seemed suddenly to have rolled away, leaving him once more a
boy. He almost wondered why Dick had not whistled to him as he used to
do. Dick was an early riser, and somehow always got ready before he
did.

There was an alertness in the old man's face and a spring in his step
as he lived over in thought the joyous days of his childhood. The
clouds were flushed with pink when he came in sight of the big water
oak on the margin of the stream, and recollected how he and Dick had
loved to go swimming in the deep, clear water beneath its shade.

"We used to run every step of the way," he soliloquized, laughing,
"unbuttonin' as we went, chuck our clothes on the bank, and 'most
break our necks tryin' to git in the water fust. I've got half a
notion to take a dip this mornin', if it wasn't quite so cool," he
went on, but a timely twinge of rheumatism brought him to his senses,
and he seated himself on the roots of a convenient tree.

Cocking his gun,