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Tale of Turkey Proudfoot

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<h2>XXIII</h2><h3>VACATION TIME</h3> It was well along in November. And Turkey Proudfoot was feeling fidgetty. Whenever Farmer Green or the hired man stepped into the yard, he started up with a wild look in his eye. Turkey Proudfoot was no longer roosting at night in the tree near the farmhouse. With the coming of cold weather he had been glad enough to roost under a shed beside the barn. Ever since the winter before, Turkey Proudfoot had enjoyed sound sleeps at night. But for weeks now he had often waked up in the middle of the night and found himself all a-shiver. "It's the fault of that horrid old Mr. Crow," Turkey Proudfoot complained to old dog Spot one day. "He would talk about cranberry sauce and drumsticks. And of course a person can't sleep well with such things on his mind." Old dog Spot nodded. "Isn't it about time for you to go on your yearly vacation?" he inquired. "Don't talk so loud!" Turkey Proudfoot hissed. And he took a quick glance all around. Then he said to old dog Spot, in almost a whisper, "To-morrow morning I'll be missing. Now, don't tell anybody!" "Certainly not!" Spot promised. "I'm glad you're going away for a little change. I've thought lately that you were getting more peevish and quarrelsome than ever." "I'm not!" Turkey Proudfoot gobbled. "I may be a bit excitable because I've lost a good deal of sleep lately. But I'm as good-natured as I ever was." "Oh, very well!" said Spot. "I'll admit all that. I certainly don't want to quarrel with you just as you're going to leave us for a while.... We shall miss you while you're gone," he added with a sly smile. "The place will seem very quiet without your gobble." "Yes, I dare say it will be lonesome around here," Turkey Proudfoot agreed. "And I suppose things will be in a muddle in the farmyard by the time I get back, with nobody to keep order there." "I'll do the best I can while you're away," old dog Spot promised. Turkey Proudfoot seemed doubtful that Spot could take his place. "Keep your tail still when you bark," he told the old dog. "These farmyard fowls won't pay much attention to you if they see your tail a-wagging." "I'll remember what you say," Spot answered. "Be sure to keep a sharp eye on that Rooster." Turkey Proudfoot went on. "I don't want him to get the idea into his head that he's running things in this, farmyard." "Very well!" said Spot. "Shall I let him crow a bit, if he wants to?" "Let him crow—yes!" Turkey Proudfoot answered. "But if he starts to gobbling—well, you'd better send for me at once." "What about the Peacock?" Spot inquired wickedly. He knew that Turkey Proudfoot was frightfully jealous of Johnnie Green's newest pet. "The Peacock!" Turkey Proudfoot squawked. "Pull out his tail feathers—every one of them! I've been intending to do that myself. But I've been so busy that I haven't had the time for it." Then they said good-by. "You ought to tell me where you're going," Spot suggested. "If the Rooster should gobble I must know where to find you." So Turkey Proudfoot told him. He told him in such a low tone that nobody else could hear. <hr class="chapter" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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