210 



RECREATION. 



foot tons, a carriage and lanyard furnish 

 the only way. The results are interesting: 



As nearly as I can judge, the trajectory is 

 7 inches high at 500 yards. The penetration 

 is 6J/2 feet in seasoned oak, or 934 inches 

 milled steel plates. The shells are about 

 12 bore and bottle necked to 45 calber, 

 and the load 250 grains of cordite, with a 

 500 grain copper patched ball. The breech 

 bolt, which weighs 4 pounds, is held by 

 quadruple lugs, superior to those of a 

 certain rifle which uses only 3 and is 

 crossbolted. The gun is, a single shot, 

 weight 17 pounds 12 ounces. There is over 

 an inch of metal around the chamber. 



I should be glad to answer any ques- 

 tion concerning this freak, and particu- 

 larly I should like to hear from "40 cali- 

 ber," to compare notes. I believe I have 

 a winner as regards penetration, and 

 am willing to back my belief to any rea- 

 sonable amount. 



R. Drummond, New York city. 



HUNTING BIG GAME IN VERMONT. 



It amuses me to hear the black-powder 

 fossils praise their obsolete weapons. The 

 old boys mean well, but they are behind the 

 times.. While their gun lore shows a cer- 

 tain insight, it lacks the keen perception 

 which comes of sedulous catalogue study. 

 Granted that most of them have killed tons 

 of game, what do they know of the muta- 

 bility of trajectory, the variable parabolic 

 drift and the mystery of comparative foot 

 pounds? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! 



When they come on game at 200 or 300 

 yards they never stop to calculate the range, 

 but blaze away with a 45-70 or an equally 

 futile 45-90, and, intuitively allowing for 

 the drop of the projectile, perforate their 

 prey. Ask them how they do it, and they 

 will reply: "Durned if I know; I just let 

 the front sight stick up a ways, and let 'er 

 go. 



This may be crude art, but is it scientific? 

 Are such methods consistent with the high 

 plane of 20th century gunnery? 



I am a scientific rifleman ; ballistics is 

 my business. I never travel without that 

 shooter's encyclopaedia — the Winchester 

 catalogue, a book which should be read by 

 every rifleman who aspires to be something 

 more than an empiric. With 6 months' 

 hard study you can learn the loading and 

 the hunting-range trajectory of every car- 

 tridge of the American market ; and in 

 a year's time you will be an expert in ballis- 

 tics and should be able to kill a deer at 

 1,000 yards by hypnotic suggestion. 



I was once an advocate of black powder, 

 and came to discard that evil smelling 

 futility and align myself with the progres- 

 sive spirit of the age in this way: 



Two years ago I camped in the shadow 



of Mount Mansfield, Vermont. I took 

 my 50-100-450 Winchester, but at the last 

 minute, mistrustful of its killing power, I 

 also provided myself with a 4 bore slow 

 twist, double-barrel elephant gun, burning 

 500 grains of powder and using a 4-ounce 

 round ball. I knew I could rely on this 

 weapon, for with that load I once shot clean 

 through a dead horse, to the great detri- 

 ment of its os occipital, os innominatum, 

 os sacrum and other fundamental ossa. 



While sitting before my tent, one morn- 

 ing, reading "Wild Animals I Have Punc- 

 tured; or, The Autobiography of a Metal 

 Patched Bullet," I perceived a bighorn 

 clipping the grass on the very apex of the 

 mountain. Dropping the book, I snatched 

 up my telescopic range-finder and leveled 

 at the unsuspecting animal. Adjusted to a 

 sharp focus, the instrument indicated a 

 range of 5,010 yards. 



Here was a problem. The Winchester 

 50 caliber was sighted to only 4,090, and 

 I feared the more powerful 4 bore would 

 not prove accurate at such an extreme 

 range.. There being absolutely no cover, 

 stalking was out of question. 



I saw I must sacrifice principle and 

 scientific calculation to the crude methods 

 of old school hunters ; I must hold over. 

 So entering the tent I rolled out my pneu- 

 matic-tired, portable machine rest, and laid 

 the Winchester in its carriage. After test- 

 ing for wind and moisture, I made the nec- 

 essary computation for the drift, screwed 

 up the Vernier sight to it's full height, 

 and holding 2^ inches over the animal's 

 back, pulled the trigger. Forty seconds 

 later, looking through the telescope, I saw 

 tne spent bullet strike the bighorn on the 

 shoulder, and, rebounding from the fleecy 

 armor, fall harmlessly to the ground. Then 

 and there I became a smokeless powder 

 convert. Seizing my jeweler's scales, I 

 weighed out 690 grains of giant powder. 

 Pouring this charge into the 4-bore, I 

 rammed down 3 gilt edge wads and a 4- 

 ounce copper patched ball. A little mental 

 arithmetic deduced a variable velocity of 

 1,476 to 1,479 f eet P er second. This time 

 I held on the head, realizing the large ball 

 must otherwise inevitably spoil considerable 

 meat. Then, after verifying my calcula- 

 tions I pulled the lanyard. 



A dull boom shook the earth ; the gun 

 leaped under the thrust of the heavy 

 charge; and the concussion inaugurated a 

 small landslide. 



But what was my horror immediately 

 after to remember that I had neglected to 

 allow for the drift, a deviation which, at 

 that great range, would amount to 88 feet 

 But even as I stared anxiously through the 

 glass the bighorn began to walk to the 

 right at the rate of about 2 miles an hour. 

 Hope swelled within my breast. I took out 



