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Down crashed the fine fellow through the branches, and had barely reached the ground, when Dash and I had thrown ourselves on him, so fearful was I lest he might be only wounded and escape. He, however was shot dead, three buck shot having pierced his body, and proved to be an old gobler with a splendid black plumage. Dash started off again and knowing there were more of them near I hastened to reload. Slinging the dead bird on my shoulder, I followed in the direction the dog had taken. In this way I had proceeded for about an hour when I caught a sight of the whole flock running before the dog. On seeing me they took wing, and I marked one settle on the topmost branch of a tall hickory tree. The thickness of the branches prevented my seeing the bird except at some distance —nearly a hundred yards — so that I resolved upon trying him with a ball.