Chapter 24 - Page 2

couldn't help boasting about the way he ruled the roost when he was at home. But his brother Tom was just as great a boaster. And after a time each began to think the other's stories somewhat tiresome. So they began to yawn. And at last they fell asleep.

A crescent moon peeped down at them from a clear, cold sky that crackled with stars. A chilling breeze swept down the valley. And sometime during the night Turkey Proudfoot woke up and found himself a-shiver. He sidled along the rail and huddled against his brother Tom.

Brother Tom stirred and stretched himself.

"This night's a nipper, isn't it?" he remarked. "I can't help wishing my legs were like Mr. Grouse's."

"Huh!" Turkey Proudfoot exclaimed. "You'd look queer--as fat as you are--if you had legs as short as his."

"Ah! But his legs are feathered out. And there's nothing like feathers to keep the cold off," said Brother Tom.

"I suppose," said Turkey Proudfoot, "Mr. Grouse's legs wouldn't get as cold as ours do, even if he hadn't a feather on them."

"Why not?" asked Brother Tom.

"Because they're shorter," said Turkey Proudfoot.

Brother Tom made no reply. He was no longer awake.

Being on the leeward side of his brother, Turkey Proudfoot began to feel warmer.

"I'm glad Tom's a big fellow," he murmured drowsily. "He makes a fine windbreak." Then he too fell asleep.

And the next day was Thanksgiving.

THE END.

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