IN THE FAR WEST. 17 



For forest shooting 1 a rifle cannot be compared to a good 

 breech-loading gun charged with buckshot, as a single ball is 

 liable to be swerved from its course by trees and matted 

 shrubbery. One may fire at a deer with a rifle several times in 

 the dense woods and miss it, whereas he may tumble it over 

 at once with a dose of buckshot, as some of the charge is likely 

 to hit it in a vital part. The best gun that I know of is a 

 ten-bore, weighing from nine and a quarter to ten pounds, 

 and having a length of barrel of thirty-two inches, for that 

 can stop anything that runs in the forests less tenacious of 

 life than a grizzly bear, and it is equally useful for shooting 

 fur or feather. 



I prefer good wood-powder to any other, as I have found it 

 to make a good pattern, to have excellent penetration, to be 

 cleaner than the ordinary powder, and to make less of a report, 

 and little smoke. The latter two characteristics are most 

 desirable, as the detonations do not startle game, and a person's 

 aim with the second barrel is not obscured by smoke. 



Every sportsman ought to have some knowledge of wood- 

 craft and the characteristics of the animals he wishes to hunt. 

 The latter is necessary to success, and the former to enable 

 him to make his way through regions unknown to him; for 

 it is as disagreeable as it is a serious matter to get lost in a 

 dense forest or on a trackless prairie. In North-western 

 America, where settlements are often few and far between, 

 and there are no roads to indicate a person's course, it is almost 

 maddening to find yourself wandering stupidly about in an 

 aimless manner, and not knowing which way to turn to reach 

 camp or a cabin. I was lost twice in the forest and once on 

 the prairie, and I remember vividly how I wandered about, 

 now wading deep and rapid streams, plunging headlong 

 through marshes that threatened to engulf me at every stop, 

 clambering like a squirrel over felled and slippery trees and 

 up steep binds, dashing down precipices with the celerity 

 of a mountain goat, or rushing through heavy shrubbery that 

 lashed my face incisively with almost the ease of a startled 

 fawn. I was only a short distance from camp on these occa- 

 sions, yet I could not find it, although I moved around it in 



