HOW I LOST MY GUN. 
OTTO VON STOCKHOUSEN. 
A few years ago I saw an offer in REcrE- 
ATION of a single barre! shot gun as a pre- 
mium for 10 subscriptions to RECREATION, 
and being a boy 15 years old this offer, of 
course, appealed to me. I went out among 
my friends and soon got the subscriptions 
necessary to secure the prize. I sent them 
in, and in due time the gun arrived. It was 
a beauty, and I was eager to try it on game. 
As soon as the ducking season opened I 
started with a friend for Pewaukee, where 
we arrived early in the morning. We ate 
our breakfasts as quickly as possible and 
were out on the lake a little after sunrise. 
Game was scarce, but I was fortunate 
enough to get a mallard with the first shot 
I ever made at.a bird on the wing. You 
may imagine how rapidly my head grew in 
size. 
We had fairly good shooting during the 
forenoon, and after dinner I was anxious to 
go out again. My friend at first declined, 
saying he preferred to rest a while; but he 
finally yielded to my persuasion, and we 
started, that time in 2 boats. 
I followed the shore of the lake some dis- 
tance and finally got one teal. Then I 
pushed into a cove among the rushes, hoping 
to jump other birds. A big mallard got up. 
I dropped my paddle, picked up my gun and 
let go at him. He had passed me so far 
that when I fired I lost my balance, and in 
order to save myself I dropped my gun, the 
first and only one I had ever owned! A 
few air bubbles that came up. showed where 
it had gone, and my heart sank within me as 
if it had suddenly turned to lead. I called 
lustily for help but none came. I began 
fishing for the gun with my paddle, but the 
water was 5 feet deep, and though I could 
occasionally touch the gun I could not raise 
it. 
Finally my friend heard one of my yells 
and came to my assistance as fast as pos- 
sible. He thought I had failen overboerd 
and was about to drown. 
As soon as he came within hailing dis- 
tance he asked what was the trouble. 
“T’ve lost my gun.” 
wie (hat ‘alte 
“Yes, that’s all. 
kill anybody?” 
Isn’t that enough to 
By that time he was alongside and began 
fishing for the gun with his paddle, which 
fortunately was longer than mine. He soon 
located the gun, and said if he could only 
get his paddle under the muzzle he thought 
he could raise the gun. He worked a long 
time without success, and finally advised me 
to undress and dive for the gun, but that 
was late in October, and the water was al- 
most ice cold. However, I took off my coat, 
vest and shoes and started, but when I put 
one foot in the water I weakened. Then 
the boss continued his efforts to raise the 
gun. Finally he said, 
“T have it, it’s coming.” 
Sure enough, the muzzle came slowly in 
sight, but .was still 2 feet beneath the sur- 
face of the water. When he got it up as 
far as he could I made an eager grab for it, 
but just before I reached it, though I 
thrust my arm in up to my shoulder, the 
gun slipped and went back. 
Then another long course of prodding, 
praying and trying. At length the coveted 
ee again came in sight, and the boss 
said, 
“Now then, Otto, go after it easy this 
time.” 
I waited as patiently as possible until 
the gun stood upright and the muzzle was 
within about 18 inches of the surface. Then 
I reached down slowly and carefully and 
finally succeeded in grasping the steel tube. 
I uttered a yell that would have frightened 
a wooden Indian, but I landed my gun in 
the boat all right. 
All that time the cold October wind had 
been blowing through my shirt and skin 
and was chilling my bones. I had not real- 
ized it, but when the trouble was over I 
discovered that I was nearly frozen. I 
jerked on my coat and vest, caught up my 
paddle, and pulled for the shore as fast as 
I could drive the boat. When the bow 
struck the ground, I made a jump and lit 
out down the trail for the house, touching 
only the high places. 
When I thawed out, I took the gun apart, 
cleaned and dried it thoroughly, oiled it, 
put it together again and it was just as 
good as new. 
“Your salary isn’t enough to support my 
daughter, sir.” 
“I’m glad you’ve come to that conclusion 
beet 
so early, sir.”—Detroit Free Press. 
195 
