204 PORTRAITS IN INK 



enthusiasm that burns on and on like a slow- 

 match, which never fires the mine of action. 



What careful selection of guns, what labor of 

 tinkering and cleaning them, what cautious pur- 

 chasing of a new one and endless testing of its 

 qualities, what thoughtful study of ammunition 

 and close measurement of charges, what nice ad- 

 justment of all appurtenances go on while the 

 season draws near, endures and is gone. 



Then at once with unabated zeal he begins 

 planning for the next, and refurnishing his equip- 

 ments, targeting his gims, wearing them out with 

 innocuous use. So his year passes in a round of 

 pleasant anticipation and free of vain regret. 



Once in its course, perhaps, he is betrayed into 

 going shooting while yet unready. Your report of 

 the abundance of squirrels, his favorite game, in 

 your neighborhood, gets the prompt response of a 

 promise to come in a day or two for a raid on them. 

 During the week or a fortnight that await its ful- 

 fillment the woods are overrun by a horde of gun- 

 ners, and every squirrel is killed or made alive to 

 its own safety. 



At last, late in the afternoon of the last day, 

 your friend arrives with a wagon load of guns and 

 equipments, whereof nine tenths are quite un- 

 necessary. When he has made a studious selection 

 from his embarrassment of riches, you go forth 

 with him in the propitious last hour of sunlight. 



