A healthy young animal himself, he could not understand what sickness meant. And as for lungs--he had forgotten there were such things in a person's make-up. And sick folks couldn't eat "regular grub." It must be pretty tough not to be able to eat heartily. Now, there was that wild turkey he had shot near the Big Spring. He tiptoed to the door. The lights were out in the other cabin. It was closed season for turkey, but then a fellow needed a change from bacon and beans once in a while. He had hidden the turkey in a gunny-sack which hung from a kitchen rafter. Should he leave it in the sack, hang it from a rafter of their veranda, out of reach of a chance bobcat or coyote, or--it would be much more of a real surprise to hang the big bird in front of their door in all his feathered glory. The sack would spoil the effect. He took off his boots and walked cautiously to the other cabin. The first person to come out of that cabin next morning would actually bump into the turkey. It would be a good joke. "And if he's the right kind of a hombre he won't talk about it," thought Lorry as he returned to his camp. "And if he ain't, I am out one fine bird, and I'll know to watch out for him." Chapter XXI _A Slim Whip of a Girl_ When Bronson opened his door to the thin sunlight and the crisp chill of the morning, he chuckled. He had made too many camps in the outlands to be surprised by an unexpected gift of game out of season. His neighbor was a ranger, and all rangers were incidentally game wardens. Bronson believed heartily in the conservation of game, and in this instance he did not intend to let that turkey spoil. He called to his daughter. Her brown eyes grew big. "Why, it's a turkey!" Bronson laughed. "And to-day is Sunday. We'll have a housewarming and invite the ranger to dinner." "Did he give it to you? Isn't it beautiful! What big wings--and the breast feathers are like little bronze flames! Do wild turkeys really fly?" "Well, rather. It's a fine sight to see them run to a rim rock and float off across a cañon." "Did you tell him about our horses? Is he nice? What did he say? But I could never imagine a turkey like that flying. I always think of turkeys as strutting around a farmyard with their heads held back and all puffed out in front. This one is heavy! I can't see how he could even begin to fly." "They have to get a running start. Then they usually flop along and sail up into a tree. Once they are in a tree, they can float off into space easily. They seem to fly slowly, but they can disappear fast enough. The ranger seems to be a nice chap." "Did he really give the turkey to us?" "It was hanging right here when I came out. I can't say that he gave it to us. You see, it is closed season for turkey." "But we must thank him."