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Updated: May 22, 2025
"You've done me a good turn telling me about him, and mayhap I'll sell him to you for your honesty. But wait a bit; wait a bit." They were fast approaching the bushes where the supposed turkey was. "Quit, quit, quit! Gobble, obble, obble!" said the pretended fowl. "He must know now," thought Frank, with renewed apprehension; but he dared not run.
"Give me a lift, boys, can't you? Look at my leg! Do you think it'll 'ave to come off? Maybe they could save it if I could get to 'ospital in time! Won't some of you give me a lift? I can 'obble along with a little 'elp." "Don't you fret, sonny! You're a-go'n' to ride back in a stretcher presently. Keep yer courage up a little w'ile longer."
A young lady in the family he greeted by flying at her, alighting on her chair-back, clawing her neck, and squawking; and before a youth who often teased him he trailed his wings on the floor, tail spread and dragging also, uttering a curious "obble! obble!" something like the cry of a turkey.
"Gobble, obble, obble!" said the turkey, behind some bushes, still several rods off. "Yes, that's my turkey!" said the man, ready enough to claim the unseen fowl. "How do you know he is yours?" asked Frank. "I know his gobble. One I had stole gobbled jest like that." And the secessionist's stern features relaxed a little.
He was took to a 'ospital and the papers was full of 'ow he saved the life of the rich Miss Portman. Well, she used to go to see 'im a lot. When he got so's he could 'obble around, she took 'im out driving and so on. He was a fair-spoken chap in them days and he 'ad a good face. So she fell desperit in love with 'im. He was an 'ero. She told 'er father she was going to marry 'im.
A loud "gobble obble obble," proceeded from the animals, evidently uttered by some one of the three. "As I live," exclaimed Francois, "that's the gobble of an old turkey-cock!" "Neither more nor less," replied Lucien, with a smile. "They are turkeys!" "Turkeys!" echoed Basil, "turkeys taken for buffaloes! What a grand deception!"
Presently, in a few minutes' interval between the dances, the former said: "Don't you ever be a fool an' teach dancing." "Why 'a fool'?" asked Mavis. "Look at me an' the way I 'obble; it's all the fault of teaching the 'gentlemen." "Indeed!" "The 'gentlemen' is such clumsy fellers; they always tread on my right foot.
This was but a ceremonious prologue, intended to deepen the impression of the coming revelation. "Useter 'ev a 'oss Oi'd ketch hanyweares. 'Wo, Bob! Ahterwahs, by gully! Oi got pepper-follerin' ahteh me 'osses hevery mo'nin' afoot. 'Ed ter wark 'em deaoun afoot, loike." "But why did n't you hobble them?" His face reddened slightly. "Me 'obble my 'osses!
The gobblers were strutting about with their tails spread like fans, and their wings trailing along the grass. Every now and then they uttered their loud "gobble obble obble," and by their attitude and actions it was evidently an affair of rivalry likely to end in a battle.
He is remarkably discriminating among people, and takes violent likes and dislikes on the instant. Some persons, without any reason that I can discover, he salutes on their first appearance with an indescribable cry, like "obble! obble! obble!" At others he squawks madly.
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