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IN an extensive sporting experience one is certain 

 to run across many very queer mortals, and perhaps 

 eventually make friendships with one or more of 

 those human oddities who come under the head of 

 " characters." I have met many of them, and do 

 not regret it, for, while they were very peculiar men, 

 more than one proved well worth cultivating. The 

 love of sport may lurk beneath a most unpromising 

 garb, and we find some men, a la fabled toad, possess a 

 brilliant redeeming feature beneath a most discourag- 

 ing exterior, the true value of which must be learned 

 through intimacy. 



I have shot in many places and in varied company, 

 and perhaps the strangest comrade I ever shared 

 luck with was a big, bandy-legged negro, who bore 

 the name of Duckett, or, as he was generally styled, 

 " Ole Paw Duckett." Beyond saying that he was 

 well versed in woodcraft, black as a barrel of tar, 

 and the soul of good nature, I need not describe 



