GUNS AND AMMUNITION 



81 



PHENOMENAL SHOTS. 



Editor Recreation : 



Referring to the letter of Alexander Mc- 

 Donald, Medicine Hat, N. W. T., in the May 

 number, under the caption of "Phenomenal 

 Shots," and to your request to us to relate 

 our shots, if we have ever made any, I can 

 think of several of mine that might be classed 

 as phenomenal ones, without exaggerating 

 them any, which you don't want us to do. 



Away back in 1896 I happened to be stop- 

 ping at a stage ranch, at Mountain Pass, 

 Texas. We had a mule there that seemed 

 tojiave the distemper, and the station keeper 

 turned him out to run in the green for a few 

 days until it would be seen what was wrong 

 with him. 



One morning during a heavy rainstorm the 

 mule turned up missing, and after breakfast, 

 when the rain had held up a little, I offered 

 to hunt him up. He had been left out in a 

 chaparall, a prairie covered with Mesquite 

 bushes, and going to it 1 began to look up his 

 trail. I carried my gun, a Spencer carbine, 

 under my right arm, with the muzzle point- 

 ing down, to keep what rain was still falling 

 out of the barrel, and was going along slow- 

 ly, looking at the ground ahead of me, when 

 I came near stepping on top of a large doe 

 that had been lying under a bush to get out 

 of the rain. The doe saw me before I saw 

 her, and jumping up, bounded off, and I, 

 not waiting to get my gun to my shoulder 

 and take aim properly, seized it at about the 

 middle of the barrel with my left hand and 

 still keeping it down at my side, raised the 

 muzzle, drawing the gun forward at the same 

 time, and fired, without hardly stopping to 

 see whether I had the gun pointed at the 

 deer or not. The deer gave a single jump, 

 then fell dead in her tracks. She was, with 

 one exception, the largest doe I had ever 

 seen. The station keeper, that my shot had 

 brought out, had to drag her all the way, as 

 he could not carry her. I was sorry after- 

 wards that I had not missed her. I did not 

 make a practice of shooting does, but always 

 let them go, and aimed at the bucks. I had 

 been taught to spare the does while I was 

 still a small boy, by a gentleman who taught 

 me not only that but a good many other 

 things. Pie would go without a deer rather 

 than shoot a doe, and I had never shot one 

 until then. 



The next curious shot was at a deer also. 

 I was riding up a small valley near the head 

 of the Sabonal river, Texas, when I noticed 

 three deer feeding in the open, close to a 

 bunch of heavy brush, that grew at the foot 

 of the hill. The deer saw me about the same 

 time that I saw them, and they ran into 

 this clump of brushes on their right and 

 stopped in them, while I dismounted and got 

 ready to shoot. I had a Sharp's carbine, :-md 

 carried its cartridges and those for my Colt's 



army pistol in a small leathern pouch, all of 

 them mixed up together. Both were forty- 

 five caliber, but the pistol cartridges were the 

 smallest and would not lit the carbine; in my 

 hurry to load I got hold of a pistol cart- 

 ridge and had it thrown into the chamber 

 before I noticed it. Then, not wanting to 

 lose any time in getting it out, I put in a car- 

 bine cartridge, throwing the pistol cartridge 

 forward out of the way. Then taking aim 

 at the only part of any of the deer thai J 

 could see between the bushes — it was the 

 shoulder of one as it afterwards turned out — 

 T fired, and two of the deer ran out and up 

 over the hill. The one I had shot at stayed 

 there until we got him. 



On cutting the deer we found my pistol 

 cartridge in him, it having killed him. The 

 carbine ball had not hit him at all. I natural- 

 ly thought that since this cartridge had not 

 exploded it must be defective; the ball that 

 had shoved it out of the gun must have hit 

 it on the primer. But when I put it in the 

 pistol in order to find out if it was defective 

 it exploded all right. Why it had not done 

 so before, I could not explain. 



Another curious shot of mine was one that 

 I fired at a buffalo — missed him — and shot 

 a turkey that I did not see. I was out 

 alone with a band of Comanches on a winter 

 buffalo hunt, and at this time we were in 

 camp, on a creek that ran in among some 

 sand hills. The buffalo would often be 

 found among those hills. I hunted them 

 there on foot, using a Winchester that be- 

 longed to the chief. 



I came across a buffalo there one day. He 

 was between two of these hills, in a narrow 

 valley that opened into the one in which the 

 creek ran, and, when about two hundred 

 yards away from the buffalo, I fired at him 

 and missed him, as I thought, or else hit him 

 where the shot would not hurt him much. 

 He ran off down to the creek, while I shot 

 again ; then seeing that he was still going, I 

 went into camp, and in half an hour one of 

 my Comanche boys came in carrying a 

 turkey, and carrying it to me says : "Here is 

 that turkey you shot." 



"Why, I shot no turkey," I told him. "I 

 was shooting at that buffalo." 



"Well, you missed him, and shot this 

 turkey. There were four of them down 

 there before the buffaloes came ; I was try- 

 ing to get close enough to shoot them (he 

 only had a bow and arrows), when you shot 

 this one and the rest all left.'' 



I examined the turkey now, and found that 

 one of my balls had gone clean through him. 

 "My brother can have him," I told the boy; 

 "take him home and eat him ; I don't want 

 him." 



Another of my shots that might rather be 

 called a long shot than a phenomenal one — 

 killed an antelope. 



