22 
A Tennessee Outing. — EI. 
I borrowed the Doctor's almanac, next morning, to 
get right on the day and date. 
When off on a hunting trip, day and night are about 
the only periods of time that I keep the run of until I 
round up a week and pause to "remember the Sabbath 
day." 
It was Saturday and the rain had set in. 
After breakfast I hunted up the boys' den and select- 
ing one of Henty's books settled down to be a boy again 
till the rain ceased. 
The hero was 'just breaking home ties preparatory to 
going forth to carve out for himself a name and fortune, 
when the Doctor came in, opening wide the door for 
Uncle Bill, who followed with a load of straw. 
(< "I am going to burn out our chimney," he explained. 
"Have had the straw ready for some time waiting for a 
rain." 
Ever ready for a novel experience, I laid aside my 
book and prepared to enjoy this new game. 
Uncle Bill carried his load of straw to the big fire- 
place, where the fire had burned low, and pushing it well 
in, began to work it as far up the chimney as he could 
with a stick. My expectations were not great, and for a 
few moments it looked as though the affair was to be very 
tame, but such was not the case. After the straw became 
well ignited, there commenced a roaring which rapidly 
increased in volume until it sounded like distant thun- 
der and shook the windows like a mighty wind, and then 
"the deluge." 
For the next half hour Uncle Bill, the Doctor and I— 
together with a neighbor hastily summoned and sent to 
the second floor— had a veritable "hot corner" on 
chimneys. 
The fire poured down in great coals that broke and 
scattered out over the carpet, getting the lead on us and 
burning holes in spite of our best efforts. Uncle Bill 
and I with brooms, and the Doctor with a bucket of 
water. 
Finally, when we were all about exhausted, and hot 
as harvest hands, the roaring ceased and the falling debris 
came in smaller lots, and at longer intervals. 
I had begun to wonder how often the pleasant practice 
of .burning out chimneys was indulged in well regulated 
households, and how I could arrange to absent myself 
from any future participation therein, when the Doctor 
returned from a trip to. the yard, where he had gone for 
a survey of the roof, and thanked me heartily and sin- 
cerely for my valuable assistance in helping save the 
house. He then assured me, as did Uncle Bill, that I 
had seen a remarkable and unusual chimney burning, 
such as neither of them, in all their experience, had ever 
seen.- The chimney had not been thoroughly cleansed by 
former burnings for two or three years, and had become 
very foul, and, becoming well ignited, had burned with 
unprecedented and unexpected fury. 
On examination we found that the intense heat had 
burned loose the cement lining, which, to the amount of 
several wheelbarrow loads had fallen in the fireplace; 
while the roof was covered with soot and cinders. 
"Had that chimney caught fire before this rain, you 
would have to worry with the problem of which you 
would prefer to sleep in, the barn or smoke house," said 
the Doctor. 
When Uncle Bill had cleared away the debris, and our 
good fire was going again, the Doctor commended me 
on the coolness shown during the exciting incident, but 
I could claim no great amount of credit, as I did not 
know anything very much out of the usual was happen- 
ing until after it was all over. I was like the old lady 
from the country, who, on her first ride on the railroad, 
was on a train that left the rails and brought up suddenly 
in a ditch. 
Disengaging herself from the mass of more or less in- 
jured humanity in the forward end of the car, where she 
had been thrown by the shock, she limped back down the 
aisle peering under seats, occasionally identifying and 
pulling out one of her several articles of baggage. A 
rescuer approached and asked her if she was hurt. 
"Hurt?" said she, in a surprised tone. "No, I guess 
I ain't hurt none, but I can't find my box of lunch no 
where." 
"You should not mind the loss of your lunch, madam, 
but should be giving thanks for your wonderful escape 
from injury in the awful accident we have had," was the 
reply. 
"Accident! Accident, you say? Well, now, I did think 
the pesky thing stopped awful suddent, but I 'sposed 
that was the usual way." 
The Tain continued to fall all day Saturday, and it was 
Monday before I resumed hunting again. 
The rain had not affected the cover to the extent I 
had hoped, but conditions were somewhat improved, 
especially as to the weed pollen which had caused the 
dog much discomfort in the first dry days. The. morning 
hunt was greatly enjoyed, and the bag fairly good, al- 
though we only worked out two coveys. 
At noon the young Doctor, who had taken my friend's 
practice off his hands, and who had been anxious to go 
out with me, but heretofore prevented by his professional 
engagements, announced that he had arranged for the 
afternoon off and would join me, if agreeable. 
Assured of the latter fact, we got away in good time, 
the Doctor armed with the only weapon he could find — 
a 12-gauge hammer gun, with one barrel out of commis- 
sion, and a pocket full of shells loaded with No. 4 shot 
and black powder. 
"My role is large and audience appreciative," said he. 
"I have not fired a gun for years, and never killed a bird 
on the wing in my life." 
After getting well under way, I watched the Doctor 
from the tail of my eye for some time, with the usual 
suspicion that the veteran accords the tyro, and was 
pleased to see that he handled his gun with care. 
We crossed the meadow where the larks were, on the 
way to our hunting grounds, and I suggested to him that 
he try a shot, if it offered, as practice. 
Several flushed wild, but finally one lay until the Doc- 
tor approached quite near, and gave him a fair shot. 
He did not make a kill, but the business-like way iq 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
which he conducted the effort augured well for his ulti- 
mate success as a wing shot, is he persevered. 
We found our first birds in the corn jungle that had 
worried me so in my earlier outing. 
They flushed rather wild and scattered out well as they 
rose. 
I selected my birds, killed the first, but saw no result 
from my second— quite a long shot. I had heard the 
roar of the Doctor's duck load, but was rather surprised 
at his quiet announcement that he had killed a bird. 
My bird (I thought) that he shot in the direction of and 
saw fall and thinks he killed. We moved up on our 
game, and as I approached Jack, who was with the bird 
I had seen fall, the Doctor turned off to the left, saying 
that his bird was over there. I then changed my mind 
and jumped to the conclusion that I had killed my second 
bird, after all, and it was that bird, instead of the first 
one, that the Doctor had thought he killed. But without 
hesitating he passed by the line of my second shot, walked 
on a short distance and picked up his bird. 
And right heartily did I commend him, and gladly 
did I note the fact that by no possible chance could 
either shot fired by me have killed that bird, for being a 
fellow the most generous, self-sacrificing, honorable, 
high-toned sportsman that ever .went gunning, and- even 
so much as a fairly good shot, he cannot without certain 
mental reservations believe that a beginner has, by any 
chance, killed a bird that falls anywhere near in line of 
. his own shot. 
We followed the covey, but could only find two or three 
birds, I getting another and the Doctor cutting down a 
row of corn with his ounce and one half of 4's sent 
a little low after a fast flying brown beauty. 
We routed a rabbit out of a bit of very thin weeds, in 
the next field, giving me a fair shot. As Jeff was ambling 
along in our rear, taking very little interest in the pro- 
ceedings up to this time, I concluded to try to awaken 
his interest, so opened fire on "Bre'r rabbit." 
The first shot went wide, but the second bowled it over. 
"Why did you not kill it the first shot?" said my friend. 
"Didn't shoot where it was," said I, somewhat em- 
barrassed by the question, and yet flattered that the Doc- 
tor thought me skillful enough to always shoot where 
I wanted to. 
I have used a gun for many years, but have never ar- 
rived at that point of perfection where I could not miss 
a fair average of shots. 
Others have done so, and I have met them a few 
times, but sad to relate always on their off days, when 
they were the victims of some awful "if" or unforeseen 
"but." 
I had rather have my bird tied down at twenty steps 
than to know that so sure as I shot at it, I should cer- 
tainly kill. 
The very soul of all sport is the uncertainty attending 
it, and by that token many of us can count our sporting 
privileges incorporeal hereditaments, for it is not alone 
the^ biggest fish that get away. 
Shortly after the rabbit episode our dog found a fine 
covey of big, strong flying birds in an open bit of stubble. 
They lay well, and seemed determined to let us walk 
right over them, but finally boiled out of the ground at 
our very feet with a most disconcerting roar. My com- 
panion presented arms and threatened them seriously, but 
failing to get on a bird to his entire satisfaction did not 
fire. I weeded out my full allowance, a couple. 
The survivors scattered along a branch at the lower 
end of the field, where we followed them, expecting some 
good shooting at single birds, but on reaching the placj 
where they had gone we found it a very deep gulley, with 
almost precipitous banks covered with brush and briers. 
Only one bird did we succeed in routing out, and he 
broke cover on the Doctor's side, and saved his wish- 
bone by a very speedy retreat. 
Concluding to try further on, we made for some prom- 
ising looking cover in sight on the next farm. 
"Dey won' let yo' hunt ovah dah, suh," said Jeff, as 
we started to climb the fence. 
My companion did not hesitate, but droppifig over the 
fence called back: "Come on, it's all right." 
I had some misgivings, but presuming that the Doc- 
tor knew better than the boy, followed on. 
At the far end of the field we came to a thicket where 
a man was doing some clearing, and calling the Doctor's 
attention to him, requested that he make the proceedings 
regular by getting permission for us to hunt. 
lie proved to be the owner of the land, who evidently 
did not recognize my companion when he first called to 
him, asking if he had any objections to our hunting on 
his farm. But when he supplemented his request with the 
information that he was "the Doctor," the old fellow 
promptly and cordially granted it. 
What a fine thing it is. I thought, to be held in such 
high esteem by our fellowmen as this young man; who 
has but to mention his name to a churlish neighbor to be 
accorded privileges denied to all others. Proof positive 
of what a life of self-sacrifice and devotion to our kind 
may achieve. But just here the Doctor broke in cn my 
reverie with this practical explanation: 
"That old rascal owes me a bill for professional services 
that is getting pretty well frayed around the edges, and 
knows better than to refuse me permission to hunt on his 
land." My further- moralizing was along the line of how 
little we really know of the motives controlling others' 
acts. 
Some pretty stiff hills loomed up on the route we were 
traveling, and as our tramp had been quite extended, my 
choice, was the low lands, but a passing native assured 
us that a covey of birds used on the steepest hill con- 
fronting us, and at it we went. We toiled to the apex, 
and though we found no birds were fully rewarded by the 
grand view it afforded of the surrounding country. 
Down in the valley on the other side was the cabin home 
of Jeff's mammy, and as we approached it, our young 
retainer was minded of a message he bore: 
"My mammy say she wan' yo' to come see huh, Doc- 
tah— pleas,' suh — she feelin' bad." 
I expressed my entire willingness to sit on the fence 
and 'est while the Doctor made his call; so assuring me 
that it would be brief, he went on to the cabin. 
"Which way you-alls goin' now, suh?" said the boy, 
who showed unmistakable signs of fatigue. 
I indicated another steep hill, beyond which I knew 
lay good covers. He said nothing for several minutes, 
but seemed to be thinking deeply. 
[Jan. 11, 1902. 
Finally, as one who has solved a difficult problem, he 
looked up and said: 
> "I g<.t to go now, suh. I don' promis' mammy dai 
I'd com' back an' he'p hur wid de washin'. (The sun was 
not more than a half hour high.) Assuring him that 1 
thought we could get along without him for the short 
time left us to hunt, I gave him the rabbit and a bit ot 
silver, and bid him go. The Doctor returning soon there- 
after, we resumed our hunt, and succeeded in finding one 
more covey of birds. 
Down in a deep ravine between two steep hills, old 
Jack rounded them up, and when we found him, in the 
high weeds, was down on a beautiful point. 
Side by side, the Doctor on my left, we moved dowr> 
on them, and, flushing, they flew straight up the hill in 
front of us. 
The Doctor (coolly, as if killing with a gun was the 
method he had practiced all his life, and with the skill 
of an expert) selected a bird at the extreme left of the 
covey and bowled it over with his one barrel, while I 
again drew a pair. 
The sun was dropping behind the mountain, and we- 
concluded that we had better strike for a "light in the. 
window" that was' dimly seen down the valley, so did not 
follow the birds. 
We had enjoyed the day, but, tired and hungry, felt 
that now the best part of it was to come — supper. 
Lewis Hopkins. 
A Good Shot — And a Bad One. 
The saw mill whistle blew for quarter time. The ma- 
chinery stopped, and Jim stepped off the carriage. He 
strolled over to the long, narrow window that extends 
laterally, one sash high and a half-dozen in width, along 
the side of the mill's upper story. The window was 
open; he placed his back against the sill and stretched 
out his arms, on either side, along it, to rest — while the 
machinery rested — during the changing of saws. 
II. 
Down below, a man suddenly dashed into the engine 
room, rudely jostled the Boss in his haste. 
"What's the matter?" growled the Boss. 
"Man fainted," and the hasty one proceeded to fill a 
pail at the cold water faucet. 
"Huh !" with a downward inflection, the shadow of a 
growl still lingered in the voice of the Boss. "Le's go 
see !" This to a bystander with whom he had been con- 
versing. 
III. 
The man at the window had collapsed. He lay in a 
heap upon the floor. Around him stood the Boss, the 
bystander, the man with a pail and the rest. 
"Lay him out straight," said the Boss. It was done. 
The Boss looked closely at his face. 
"That's no faint— he's dead," said the Boss; "that's 
heart disease ; go for the doctor !" 
The "hand" addressed went — the doctor came. 
"It's apoplexy," said the doctor. "All the symptoms 
are present except frothing at the mouth. In death by 
apoplexy there's generally frothing." 
IV. 
They carried him into the mill boarding house. He 
was an unmarried man, thank God, they said; but where 
he lived or where he came from they did not know. 
Driftwood, he — just a piece of human driftwood! Any- 
way, they would give him a decent burial ; they all 
"chipped in." 
They would remove his clothing and perform for him 
his last ablution. That was the decent thing to do, they 
had heard. They loosened the rough woolen shirt, they 
raised his head and slipped the garment off — and then 
he who stood behind, supporting the recumbent form, 
cried out, and his cry voiced surprise, terror, anger. 
"Look here ! — blood ! — he's been shot !" 
"Yes, blood !— shot !— call the doctor !" 
The doctor recovered the bullet : it was a .44-4°- 
V. 
Whence came the bullet? — that was the question all 
asked, but none could answer. At the moment the un- 
fortunate man had been stricken there was no rioise about 
the mill — yet no one had heard the report of the rifle; 
the bullet must have come from a long way off. 
"The bullet has taken a downward course into the man's 
body," said the doctor. 
"What slant?" asked the Boss. 
"About so," and the doctor indicated the angle with his 
"Ump ! She flew pretty high," the Boss declared. ' 
"Yes, it described not quite a half-circle in its flight." 
The Boss was evidently thinking. He asked : "Which 
way did that bullet go after it hit— right or left?" 
"It>; course is from right to left." 
"How much?" 
"About so," said the doctor, again illustrating with 
Icincct 
"Well, lay the poor devil out." There was no growl 
in the voice now. His eye — the Boss was never known to 
weep — his eye was kindly and mellow, though. 
VI. 
The mill was rattling and roaring again; the great 
circular tearing and snarling; the mill had lost no time 
because a man had died— not all the hands had dropped 
their work to clear away this bit of useless driftwood — 
enough only to dispose of him decently. 
The Boss walked back to the mill. The "boys" in- 
stinctively shuddered as they saw him go up to the win- 
dow and stand in the very spot where Jim had fallen. He 
stretched his 'arms along the sill ; he slouched, just, as 
Jim had, except that he faced out. He looked up; he 
looked to one side; he seemed to be measuring something 
with his eye. 
" 'Bout in line with that lone birch." he muttered, as 
he took a compass from his pocket and carefully noted 
the course. Then he went down and out, motioning to 
a man to accompany him. ... 
Eighty rods northwest of the mill ran the precipitous 
face of a bluff seventy feet high, on the edge of which 
stood the lone birch— a big, white tree standing before a 
dense growth of evergreens, like an officer appareled in 
