474 



RECREATION. 



with a good meal, and so he selected a nice 

 plump calf. 



In those days I differed from Bill, in 

 these things. I was ambitious. Nothing 

 short of the biggest bull in the herd could 

 satisfy me. I did not care how tough he 

 was; and beyond all this I had a grudge 

 against the old bull that could be wiped out 

 only in blood. Furthermore he was only 

 about 75 yards away, and was an easier 

 mark in case of buck ague, than the smaller 

 animals. We sighted carefully. 



" One, 2, 3." Bang! and the whole herd 

 went thundering over the prairie! 



Bill looked at his calf; I looked at my 

 bull. Then we looked at each other. 

 Words were inadequate. Even Duke could 

 not have met the exigency of the case. 



Suddenly we were aroused from our 

 stupefaction by a yell from Jack, who was 

 tearing over the prairie at full speed toward 

 us, and on glancing up, we saw a sight that 

 really took away all taste for buffalo hunt- 

 ing. 



A big old fellow had left the herd, and 



was charging down on us, with the evident 

 intention of doing a little hunting on his 

 own account. 



This change in affairs impressed me with 

 the wide difference between hunting and 

 being hunted. I confess there was some- 

 thing in that shaggy head, those distorted 

 nostrils and bloodshot eyes that made my 

 hair stand on end; and I would then have 

 given all I possessed to have been any- 

 where else in the world. 



We grasped our rifles with some sort of 

 a vague idea of " selling our lives dearly " 

 or " dying with our faces to the foe " or 

 " quitting (if we could have ' quit ' the buf- 

 falo) like men; " but fortunately we were 

 not compelled to do any act of heroism. 

 While we looked, the bull staggered and fell 

 to the earth. My shot had gone home. 



We carved him as well as we could and 

 made desperate efforts to eat some of him; 

 but no matter what portion we tried, or 

 how long and well Duke cooked it, we al- 

 ways devoutly wished Bill hadn't missed 

 his calf. 



WOODCOCK AND SNIPE IN NOVA SCOTIA. 



H. AUSTEN. 



On a certain autumn day my wife and I 

 and good old " Jack Diamond " (my Irish 



setter) boarded a train for where we 



were to have a day's sport on woodcock. 



I took along my new 12 bore hammer- 

 less, built to order by the Ithaca Gun Co., 

 of Ithaca, New York. The gun was made 

 specially for woodcock, snipe and grouse 

 shooting. It has 28 inch barrels, 2 inch 

 drop, left barrel cylinder, and right modi- 

 fied choke. It weighs 7 pounds, but is so 

 beautifully balanced that it does not appear 

 to weigh over 5. It drops into place so 

 neatly that the bird must be lively who 

 keeps out of its way. 



We arrived at friend Law's at noon, and 

 soon after lunch started out to look up 

 some of our old covers. As soon as we 

 reached the ground, Jack began to take 

 scent, and to show that game of some sort 

 was near. The ground was rather open, 

 with alder patches scattered about — a good 

 place for an odd snipe or cock to lie. 



I was enjoying my cigar, and keeping an 

 eye on Jack, who was some 40 yards ahead, 

 when he swung about, and came to a stop. 

 We knew that somewhere, close in front 

 of his keen nose, a snipe was hugging the 

 ground. " Steady, Jack, steady." We 

 took a few steps forward, and up jumped 

 the bird, coming up wind, straight toward 

 us. Letting him pass, we swung about; 

 the left trigger was pressed, a report rang 

 out, and first blood for Ithaca was recorded. 



On picking up the bird I was surprised 

 at its weight and size, and remarked to 

 Mrs. A. I thought it the largest snipe I 

 had ever killed. We weighed him after- 

 ward, and he weighed 6 ounces. I have 

 no doubt that, like the big fish we catch, 

 he lost considerable in carrying him home. 



While discussing this weighty subject 

 with Mrs. A. I had allowed Jack to roam 

 into the cover. His bell stopped tinkling 

 and I knew he was standing a bird. We 

 moved up within shot, sang out "steady;. 

 up, up; " when the bell tinkled and, with a 

 merry whistle, out burst the king of all 

 game birds, a noble woodcock. Once more 

 the " Ithaca " spoke, a few feathers floated 

 back on the air and the bird was cut down. 

 Gently picking him up we smoothed out 

 the rumpled feathers, tucked his pretty 

 brown head under his wing, and stowed 

 him carefully away, with his cousin, the 

 snipe, in the recesses of my game pocket. 



" Well," said Mrs. A., " your Ithaca ap- 

 pears to shoot all right. That's 2 shots, 

 and 2 birds." 



" Yes, that's so; but both these were easy 

 shots. Just wait, until I get some real hard, 

 tangled up shots, in thick cover, and then 

 I shall be better able to judge as to how 

 she will shoot. It depends largely on how 

 quickly I can pitch her on a bird." 



On we went with Jack ahead, working to 

 and fro, over the ground. He made quick, 

 sharp turns, from side to side, like a snake 



