Sometimes, too, when we saw Halstead going down with the lantern to feed him, we went along to see the performance and hear the turkey groan, _Ca-r-r-r!_ "Halstead, that's wicked!" Addison said several times; and Halstead retorted that we were both trying to make out a story against him, so as to sneak our own turkeys in ahead of his.
Nine or ten days passed.

Halstead was nearly always behindhand when we turned out to do the farm chores.

As we went through the wagon-house one morning Addison stopped to take another peep at the captive; I went on, but a moment later heard him calling to me softly.

When I joined him at the foot of the stairs he lighted a match for me to see.

Halstead's gobbler lay dead with both feet up in the air.