198 



RECREATION 



such a man should order a single bar- 

 relled muzzle-loader with a flint lock," 

 mused the old man aloud, as he turned 

 to his work again. 



The order was mailed from a small 

 mining town which I afterwards dis- 

 covered is located in the midst of the 

 mountains, far from a railroad, and 

 this was the only clew to the present 

 whereabouts of the unique "Patrick 

 Mullins." The suggestion that I should 

 look up the rifle caught my fancy. 

 There was an element of romance and 

 adventure involved in the very idea, 

 full of wild life and wilder scenery that 

 charmed my imagination. 



"Mr. Mullins," I said, impulsively, 

 holding out my hand, "I'll look up that 

 gun for you." "You are a good fel- 

 low," said the old man simply, as he 

 gripped my hand for a moment, then 

 resuming work upon the fowling piece 

 he hummed softly to himself a snatch 

 of an old Gallic song. 



There was just enough business con- 

 nected with the proposed trip to enable 

 me to persuade myself that by leaving 

 the city for such an extensive trip I 

 was not altogether neglecting my law 

 practice. I was in hopes that I might 

 solve a little legal problem, by discov- 

 ering in the West some descendant of 

 a branch of the Van Linkles, an old 

 New York family, and have the pleas- 

 ure of turning over to him or her a few 

 idle millions and some farm lands in 

 the midst of New York City which 

 formed part of an estate left in my 

 charge. • Among the family portraits 

 belonging to this estate was one of 

 Robert Van Linkle, by Copley, which 

 deeply interested me, not because it ap- 

 pealed to my artistic training, for I 

 am a lawyer, but because I hoped some 

 day to find a descendant of the gentle- 

 man on the canvas and make him or 

 her rich with an unlooked-for inherit- 

 ance. 



Above all the picture appealed to me 

 as a sportsman ; the canvas showed a 

 remarkably handsome young man, 

 whose raven locks untouched by pow- 

 der were gathered into a cue at the 



back. It was a youthful oval face 

 which looked out of the antique frame 

 with an expression of mild wonder in 

 the clear gray eyes. The brow was 

 high and broad, the eyebrows level and 

 of the texture of black velvet, the nose 

 slightly aquiline, a large, well formed 

 mouth and the round but rather large 

 and somewhat prominent chin of the 

 same model as that which seems to be 

 a necessary feature of the modern foot- 

 ball champion. It was a full length 

 portrait and the young athletic figure 

 was encased in a hunting suit of light 

 cotton or linen cloth trimmed with fur. 

 Over his shoulder was swung a broad 

 strap with a silver buckle ; the strap 

 supported a bullet pouch of otter skin 

 and an intricately engraved cow's horn 

 powder flask. The young man was rep- 

 resented as leaning upon a long rifle, 

 which fact I knew would interest the 

 gunsmith and with this thought I de- 

 scribed the picture to him. 



"Wood extend to end of barrel?" en- 

 quired Mr. Mullins, ignoring all details 

 but the mention of the rifle, but not so 

 much as pausing in his work as he 

 spoke. "Yes," I replied. "I particu- 

 larly noticed that peculiarity." 



"Gun trimmed with brass?" 



"No sirree ! that gun was trimmed 

 with good white silver, silver plate at 

 butt, silver guards to triggers, silver 

 cover to patch box in the stock and sil- 

 ver thimbles for the ramrod," I an- 

 swered. "Well, well! A fine gun no 

 doubt," said the gunsmith, for the first 

 time showing his interest by looking up 

 from his work and wiping the sweat 

 from his brow with his shirt sleeve. 

 "That gun had a forty-eight inch bar- 

 rel and carried a bullet running forty 

 to the pound — you said triggers? Yes? 

 Well, the double trigger was intro- 

 duced during the Revolutionary War. 

 That gun came from the shop at Char- 

 lottesville, North Carolina." 



"The dickens you say!" I exclaimed 

 in some surprise ; "I would like to 

 know where you saw that gun, Mr. 

 Mullins." 



The old man laughed a quiet little 



