GUNS AND AMMUNITION. 



Anybody can keep on shooting all day, but it takes a gentleman to quit when lie gets enough. 



A HEART TO HEART TALK ABOUT GUNS. 



Red Lodge, Mont. 



Editor Recreation : 



I see many sportsmen continue to praise . 

 small bore rifles. I have used nearly all 

 kinds, from 22 to 50-100-450. At present 

 1 use a Stevens' 22 extra long for big 

 game as often as I do my 25-35 or 50-100- 

 450; but I never shoot at an animal with 

 it unless I am sure I can place the ball 

 where I want it. I do not wish to cripple 

 game and have it escape to die a lingering 

 death. My -experience of 19 years as hunter 

 and guide in regions where big game 

 abounds convinces me that the 45-70-405 

 and the 45-85-405, both of which can be 

 shot from the 45-90-300 Winchester, are 

 the best all around cartridges for large 

 animals. 



I have shot elk, big horn and bear 

 through and through with the 30-30 and 

 the 30-40 U. S., and if the ball did not 

 strike a bone or a vital spot, the game 

 would run a long distance. Moreover, it 

 would often escape entirely. Often I have 

 trailed animals so shot -one or 2 miles 

 without finding blood; and some that I 

 finally found required one or more shots 

 to finish them. 



Some say if you hit the animal in the 

 right spot any caliber is fatal. True; but 

 how many can hit the right spot ? I have 

 had many queer experiences bearing on 

 that point. I was once camped with a 

 party at Sulphur Springs in the Beartooth 

 mountains. Two of us started on horse- 

 back to get an elk. We found a large bull 

 near camp, lying with his back toward us. 

 My companion dismounted, dropped on 

 one knee and fired with his 45-70. The elk 

 jumped up and ran at least 150 yards, 

 struck a pine tree 5 inches in diameter, 

 broke it off and fell dead. The bullet en- 

 tered back of the left shoulder, went 

 through the heart and out ahead of the 

 right shoulder. The hole through the 

 heart was almost large enough to thrust 

 one's fist through. 



At another time I was camped on 

 Slough creek with a man from St. Paul. 

 One morning while yet in bed we heard 

 a noise like the braying of a donkey. We 

 grabbed our guns, jumped out end stood 

 face to face with a 6-point bull elk. He 

 was about 20 yards from the tent, looking 

 at it over his shoulder. My companion 

 fired his 45-90 and the elk ran. We fol- 

 lowed the animal 100 yards and found 

 him. He, also, had struck a tree, head on, 



127 



and fallen dead. The ball had gone 

 through the heart, lodging against the skin 

 of the opposite side. 



Someone signing himself "Syracuse" 

 questioned the probability of some heart 

 shot stories I wrote in a back issue of 

 Recreation. He characterized them as 

 "fishy" and said medical men claim that if 

 the heart be punctured even with a needle, 

 it causes paralysis and instant death. Per- 

 haps the following story will be easier for 

 "Syracuse" to digest: 



I was guiding a party, one of whom was 

 C. E. Hibbard, of 308 Delaware street, 

 Kansas City, Mo. We were all in the 

 saddle with the pack train close behind. 

 Our meat supply was running short, and 

 when we saw a deer ahead I told the 

 sportsman nearest me to dismount and 

 shoot. Before he could do so the deer was 

 off. I sprang down and took a flying shot 

 with my 30-30 Winchester. The deer ran 

 150 yards, stopped, looked at us, turned, 

 ran 100 yards farther, and out of sight be- 

 hind a rise of ground. When we came up 

 it was dead. The 30-30 ball entered the 

 shoulder. Beyond that we could not trace 

 it until we came to the heart, or rather, to 

 what was left of it. It was a mere mass 

 of bloody pulp that would not hold to- 

 gether while we removed it. The liver 

 was in the same condition. The ball on 

 striking the shoulder had separated into 

 what was practically a charge of shot. I 

 followed back the tracks of that deer, step 

 by step, to where he was shot, and not a 

 trace of blood could I find. 



After taking my last hunting party to 

 the railroad I was driving home with my 

 wife and a load of provisions. It was 

 snowing a little on old snow, and I saw 

 where a small bunch of deer had just 

 crossed the road. It was the last day of 

 the open season, and as I had not killed 

 any of my legal allowance of game, I de- 

 termined to make the most of my oppor- 

 tunity. Taking my wife's 22 Stevens' Fa- 

 vorite, the only rifle I had with me, I fol- 

 lowed the trail 100 yards or so into some 

 thick burnt timber. Presently I saw a deer 

 running, 75 yards ahead. I fired, and, with- 

 out waiting to see the result, put another 

 cartridge in the gun. Looking up, I saw, 

 as I supposed, the same deer still running. 

 I fired again, reloaded, fired, reloaded and 

 fired the fourth time. I put a fifth shell 

 in the rifle and, after waiting a moment, 

 walked to where I last saw the deer. I 

 found one large buck and 2 fair sized does 

 lying within 10 yards of one another. 



