A HUNT IN HUNTINGDON. 



H. L. DEWITT. 



I have hunted deer more or less the 

 last 15 years. Previous to 1899 I used a 

 shot gun loaded with a handful of black 

 powder, buckshot and scrap iron. When 

 she went off something got hurt, if it was 

 only me. At rare intervals I would succeed 

 in killing a deer. As a rule, however, I 

 would only burn the hair off one side of 

 my game. That fact coming to the notice 

 of the S. P. C. A,. I was threatened with 

 arrest ; the Society claiming that deer thus 

 deprived of their winter coats were likely 

 to perish of pneumonia. Therefore, I sold 

 my old pelt dresser and bought a .30-30 

 rifle. 



November 1st M. F. Gulick and I left 

 here for the mountains of Huntingdon 

 county, Pa., arriving at camp the same 

 evening. We found another party on the 

 ground, with which we joined forces. The 

 next morning we were up by daylight and 

 ready for the fray. 



I was stationed on a small flat command- 

 ing the side of a ridge on which the driv- 

 ers were advancing. Presently I saw a 

 deer coming straight at me at top speed. 

 Instantly realizing that with a rifle I could 

 not mow a 10-foot swath at 30 yards. 

 I steadied myself, brought the gun to my 

 shoulder, and watched through the peep 

 sight for further developments. My sus- 

 pense was short. Into an open space, 40 

 yards away, bounded the deer, still heading 

 toward me. I was seized with a desire to 

 run, but it was too late; so, to do or be 

 done, I let go my first .30-30 soft point at 

 large game. 



The effect of the shot on the deer was 

 marvelous. He did not turn a flipflap and 

 fall all in a heap, as I have seen others do. 

 He was simply paralyzed in his tracks, his 

 front knees knocked together and he fell 

 on his side, with neck extended at full 

 length. Before I reached him, however, my 

 beautiful, 3-pronged, 160 pound chunk of 

 venison began to kick violently. I fired a 



second shot, which took effect in his neck 

 and finished him. 



My last shot was entirely unnecessary, 

 as subsequent examination revealed. The 

 first ball entered the neck about 4 inches 

 from the shoulder, struck the neck bone, 

 ranged backward through liver and intes- 

 tines, and was found embedded in the back- 

 bone, back of kidneys. My second shot 

 struck near the first, passed through neck 

 bone and out the other side. At point of 

 entering the holes were as large as those 

 made by a .44 caliber. The hole at exit of 

 second shot was an inch in diameter. 

 These balls had flat ends and the one found 

 in the backbone had mushroomed half its 

 length. 



This glorious success in my first experi- 

 ence with the .30 made me careless. A 

 few days later I had a beautiful shot at a 

 large doe standing in the open only 100 

 yards away. At the crack of the rifle she 

 fell toward me, but immediately regained 

 her feet and escaped without giving me a 

 chance for a second shot. On the little 

 ridge where she had stood I found blood 

 and hair. I trailed the deer by blood for 

 half a mile down the ravine, where she 

 had entered a thicket of buck laurel and 

 windfalls. The next morning I took up 

 the trail again but was unable to follow it. 



The blood on the leaves was frothy, sug- 

 gestive of the deer having been shot 

 through the lungs.. Through over confi- 

 dence in the .30-30 I failed to hold on the 

 shoulder as I should have done. 



Deer are becoming more plentiful here. 

 Our new game law, now about 2 years old, 

 explains this. The fines for violation are 

 heavy; and half going to the informer, 

 makes of each square hunter a game warden. 



My friend, Gulick, was compelled to re- 

 turn home without getting a shot. He 

 explained this by saying he did not want 

 Shields to rip him up the back for being 

 a game hog, such as I was. 



HAVE YOU A FRIEND 



ANYWHERE IN THE WOODS, 



IN THE MOUNTAINS 



OR ON THE FARM, 



WHO LONGS FOR SOMETHING TO READ 



IN THE LONG WINTER EVENINGS, OR IN 



THE LONG SUMMER DAYS? 



SEND HIM RECREATION. 



IT WILL PLEASE HIM A WHOLE YEAR 



AND HE WILL RISE UP AND CALL YOU 



BLESSED. 



AND IT ONLY COSTS YOU $1. 



