148 A Sportsman at Large 



Montenegrins, they were continually fighting other people's 

 battles as well as their own. If successful, they were in- 

 variably robbed of the fruits of victory, and when overwhelmed 

 by the Austrian hordes, sank into nothingness, without 

 eliciting a sign of gratitude from those whose cause they had 

 so bravely and so long upheld ! 



Another notable royalty whom I chanced across was the 

 gallant gentleman who afterwards became King Peter of 

 Serbia. Before he was called to the throne of that .long- 

 suffering and distressful state he was living quietly in Paris, 

 where at " Le Cercle des Patineurs " he used to amuse himself 

 at the traps and indulge in a mild flutter on the chances. 

 Here I often met him in friendly rivalry, and on one occasion 

 had a match with him at twelve pigeons, of which he 

 accounted for seven, whilst I (owing three metres) managed 

 to grass ten, and so pocketed the future king's five hundred 

 francs ! 



During my frequent visits to " Monte " and its Tir aux 

 pigeons, I had a great penchant for arranging matches with 

 those shooters whose form approximated to my own, or with 

 lesser lights to whom I had to concede a metre or two. I 

 think I was much more convincing as a match shooter than as 

 a competitor in official events. In fact, I can only recall one 

 instance in which I was beaten. But the first time I essayed 

 this form of contest I was in deadly peril of defeat through 

 an unlooked-for cause. If I remember rightly, my opponent 

 was Welbore Ellis, a very consistent Gun Club exponent of 

 the art. You will remember that when I made my debut 

 at " Monte," I had brought with me a twelve-bore Greener 

 hammerless (then something of a novelty). 



When the match (twenty-five pigeons at twenty-seven 

 metres) began, I was the first to shoot. 



To my surprise and annoyance, both barrels went off at 

 once ; and though my pigeon was pulverized, the umpire, very 

 properly, called " No bird ! " So I had another go, and the 

 same thing occurred. A third essay was no more satisfactory. 



This was distressing alike to my nerve, my head and my 

 shoulder. Obviously something had gone wrong with the 

 works ! 



