"They're after my turkeys! This is your trick, boy!" and he sprang upon Frank, lifting his gun as if to level him to the earth. But Seth sprang after him, and seized the weapon before it descended. That green down-easter was cool as if he had been at a game of ball. He was an athletic youth, and he readily saw that Buckley, though a sturdy farmer, was no match for him. He pushed him back, shouting shrilly, at the same time, in the words of his favorite poet,-- "'Now, if thou strik'st him but one blow, I'll hurl thee from the brink as far as ever peasant pitched a bar!'" This strange form of salutation astonished the rebel even more than the rough treatment he received at the hands of the vigorous and poetical Tucket. He saw that it was no time to stay and parley. He knew that his turkeys were going, and, muttering a parting malediction at Frank, he set off at a run to protect his poultry-yard. "Now's our time," said Tucket, starting for the rendezvous, and striking into another quotation from his favorite minstrel, parodied for the occasion. "'Speed, Manly, speed! the cow's tough hide on fleeter foot was ne'er tied. Speed, Manly, speed! such cause of haste a drummer's sinews never braced. For turkey's doom and rebel deed are in thy course--speed, Manly, speed!'" And speed they did, arriving at the place of meeting just as their companions came up with the poultry. "Hello, Jack!" said Frank; "what's the matter with you?" "He stumbled over a great piece of bark," Ellis answered for Winch. "Did you, Jack?" "Yes!" said Jack, putting on a look of anguish. He had not thought of the bark before, but supposing Ellis had seen such a piece as he spoke of, he accepted his theory of the stumbling as readily as the rebel had recognized in Seth's gobbling one of his own lost turkeys. "And broke my ankle," added Jack. "What kind of bark was it? do you know?" said Ellis. "No. I was hurt so I didn't stop to look." "Well, I'll tell you. It was the dog's bark." And Ellis and his comrades shouted with laughter, all except poor Jack Winch, who knew too well that no other kind of bark had checked his progress. Then the turkey-stealers had their adventure to relate, and Frank had his amusing story to tell, and Tucket could brag how near he had come to being shot for one of Buckley's gobblers, and all were merry but Jack, who had brought from the field nothing but a counterfeit lameness and dishonor, and who accordingly lagged behind his comrades, sulky and dumb. "He limps dreadfully--when any body is looking at him," said Harris. "Nobody killed, and only one wounded," said Frank. "The sight of old Buckley coming with his dog would be better than a surgeon, to cure that wound," said Tucket. "You'd see Winch leg it faster 'n any of us--like the old woman that had the hypo's, and hadn't walked a step for twenty years, and thought she couldn't; but one day her friends got up a ghost to scare her, and she ran a mile before they could ketch her."