A Golden Opportunity 337 



final homeward tramp was something the victim 

 never forgot. Then Joe would bundle him into 

 his trap, and start him homeward with a polite 

 invitation to have another day soon. Needless to 

 say that day never came, for nothing could induce 

 that particular subject to apply for a second treat- 

 ment. 



Those who really knew Joe, however, appre- 

 ciated his sterling worth. Loyal and game to the 

 core, the real man was a friend worth having, for 

 he scorned all affectation and treachery, and the 

 grip of his strong hand meant precisely what a 

 manly handclasp should mean. I have shot with 

 many men of various walks in life, but I have yet 

 to meet his superior in those valuable qualifica- 

 tions — sound common sense, shrewd, dry humor, 

 bulldog courage, and all-round knowledge of his 

 craft. 



The first time I shot with him, I got it, as 

 everybody else did. It was in spring, and he had 

 me out about two hours before daylight to try for 

 geese. By nine o'clock the flight was over, and a 

 bit of snipe-shooting followed. Through the 

 mud we went for miles, shooting, reloading, 

 gathering, always on our feet in heavy mud. The 

 lunch was a standing function, for the nearest dry 

 seat was afar at the edge of the dim forest line. 

 Not till the red sun touched the marsh did the 

 veteran (he was then past middle age) turn home- 



