378 
FOREST AND STREAM 
[Nov. 5, 1904. 
My Burglar. 
I can remember when I wore dresses, and long 
yellow curls like a little girl, but cannot remember when 
I did not love a gun. 
Toy guns satisfied my early childhood, but with my 
first pair of pants came the longing for a real gun, 
which rapidly increased as I grew older. My brother 
Will, two years my senior, was possessed with the same 
longing, and by the time I was nine and he eleven years 
of age, we had come to seriously consider ways and 
means of acquiring a gun. Our father was very posi- 
tive in his refusal to assist us in any material manner, 
and even went so far as to forbid our attempting it 
ourselves, considering us too young to be trusted with 
a gun. 
Inclined to obedience, we gave the matter up for a 
season, but could not bring ourselves wholly to abandon 
it- 
One day brother Will came to me in great excitement, 
saying he had found a gun that could be bought for one 
dollar and fifty cents, and that we must set about rais- 
ing the money at once, before some one else secured 
the prize. It was a large sum of money for us to get 
together, and it cost much thought and labor to do it, 
but the possibility of owning a gun stimulated us so 
that we speedily accomplished the task, and one fine 
morning purchased and proudly bore home our - first 
real gun. It was an antiquated army musket, rusty and 
battered, but to our eyes all that a gun ought to be. 
We found it a heavy load to carry, but no burden w"as 
ever borne more cheerfully. A careful and critical ex- 
amination of our treasure, after we had gotten it 
safely home, developed the fact that it was so heavy 
neither of us had the strength to hold it out in firing 
position. But Will solved this problem by suggesting 
that we could shoot from a rest on some convenient 
stump or fence. 
Then on further investigation we discovered that 
neither of us was tall enough to reach up to the muzzle 
of the gun to pour in the powder and shot with which 
to load it. This was more serious, and not so easily 
remedied as the first difficulty. I suggested that we 
might carry a box with us to stand on when loading, 
but this plan did not seem quite practical, and was 
not very well received by my brother. "It is all we can 
do to carry the gun, without lugging a big box, too," 
said he. "And who ever heard of anybody going hunt- 
ing with a gun and a box to stand on when loading 
it?" he rather indignantly inquired. 
I think the fact of its being so unorthodox, rather 
than its novelty, caused us to dismiss it as wholly im- 
practical; for we could not consider any method not 
approved by sportsmen, now that we had a real gun. 
We finally consulted an old gunsmith, telling him our 
troubles, and he advised that we have the barrel of 
the gun cut off, thereby reducing the weight and length, 
and agreed to do the job himself for the modest sum 
of 45 cents. . 
We promptly resolved ourselves, for the second time, 
into a ways and means committee, and, after a few days 
of as earnest financiering as ever fell to the lot of men 
engaged in an enterprise of importance, we sallied forth 
to the gunsmith's with our gun and the price of the 
desired improvements. 
With something like two feet cut off the barrel, and 
the same from the iron ramrod, we had an arm that 
either of us could hold — very briefly — in firing position, 
and readily reach the muzzle of from the ground. 
Cocking our gun gave us much trouble at first, but 
this we finally learned to do by resting the muzzle on 
the ground, bracing the stock against our chest, and 
pulling on the ponderous lock with both hands. The 
sound of the two "clicks," announcing the stages which 
we knew as "half" and "whole cocked" was thrilling 
in the extreme, bearing a strong resemblance to the 
noise made by a heavy fire-set falling on a stone hearth. 
It was simply sweet music to our ears, and we knew 
that no gun ever had a stronger, or more business-like 
click. 
It was some time before we could persuade our father 
to allow us to test its shooting qualities; and when we 
did, our further knowledge of the gun, and its strong 
characteristic might be thus summed up: It had won- 
derful capacity for ammunition, taking a handful each 
of powder and shot, at a load, with a handful of paper 
on each. A very loud and booming report, when fired. 
A recoil, which, led us seriously to consider, at times, 
whether or not the propelling power had not — in some 
manner — become reversed; and the knack of scattering 
shot in a way beyond the power of belief. 
We also discovered a little later on, that the threads 
of the tube seat were worn, and that occasionally the 
tube was blown out, whistling by our heads with 
terrific force, and. not killing us — although occurring 
several times — simply and solely because of the kind 
and all-wise Providence that especially regards the 
reckless boy. 
But what a grand, good, beautiful gun that old iron 
wreck was to us, and how we loved it. The boy of 
to-day with his double hammerless, that has never cost 
him an effort beyond the request for it, knows nothing 
of real love for a gun. 
I think we never killed bigger game than a robin — 
and few of those, J am thankful to say — but we ber 
lieved our gun fully up to the mark on any kind of 
game, big or small; and as for burglars, we only wanted 
a qhance to show that it was — above all things — a man 
gun. Many hours which should have been devoted to 
sleep did we devote to planning our campaigns against 
the burglar we were always expecting, often slipping 
out of bed and stumbling around in the dark to change 
the location of the gun to meet conditions changed in 
our discussions. 
Our room was on the second floor of an L, and 
opened out on a back porch. This porch was inclosed 
below, but open and surrounded by a railing above. 
Steps led up from the lower to the upper floor and 
about midway the lower floor opened out on to the 
yard. 
The other members of the family were absent from 
home attending an entertainment one evening, but my 
older sister was ill, and I was left at home with her 
for company. Her room was also up stairs, and next 
to the one we boys occupied. Left to ourselves, my 
sister was lying down, and I sat looking at pictures be- 
fore the open grate fire. 
A suspicious noise finally attracted my attention, and 
after listening a moment I slipped quietly out into my 
room to investigate. Seeing nothing there,, and the 
noise continuing, I secured the gun and went out on 
to the back porch. I had opened the door very care- 
fully, without making a sound, and when out on the 
porch could distinctly hear the noise which sounded as 
though it was on the lower porch. 
Holding my breath, in mingled fear and excitement, 
I tiptoed to the edge of the porch and looked over the 
railing. The moon was shining brightly, making objects 
nearby plainly visible. 
Immediately under where I stood was a man, and a 
very large one, I thought. Calmly, yet vigorously, he 
was working on the fastening of the door that opened 
on to the steps leading up to where I stood, and I 
at once realized that our long looked for burglar had 
come. 
Together with my brother, I had planned, longed, 
hoped and looked for his appearance for days and 
weeks past, and now that he had come, and was so 
close — I could all but touch the top of his hat with 
the muzzle of my gun — I discovered that' my feelings 
had suddenly undergone a radical change. 
Instead of being delighted, I was truly sorry. In- 
stead of being calm and self-possessed, as I had always 
felt sure I should be, I was shaking from head to foot 
with abject terror; so great was my fright it positively 
made me sick. I made a desperate effort to cry out, 
but only choked and gasped, making no sound. I 
tried to retreat into the house, but my legs refused to 
carry me. 
With the now forgotten gun in one hand, and cling- 
ing to the banister with the other, I stood looking down 
on the man as he calmly proceeded to work at the door 
fastening, which I knew to be none too secure. Ex- 
pecting every minute that he would effect an entrance, 
I now began earnestly to wish that I had left the gun 
in the house' where it would not have been so con- 
venient to his hand when he attacked me. 
I could not say how long I stood thus, but know 
it seemed a very long time. The man was using some 
sort of instrument with which he worked at the fasten- 
ing of the door, twisting and turning it in the lock, 
stopping every little while to push and gently shake 
the door to see if his efforts to force the lock had been 
successful. 
Utterly unconscious of my near presence he worked 
away, while I watched him in fascinated silence. Each 
time he pushed and shook the door I expected it to 
open and let him in, but the fastenings held. 
I finally began to recover from the first effects of my 
dreadful fright, and to wonder if it was not possible 
for me to shoot the man as he worked at the door. 
He was evidently a real burglar, and deserving of the 
most severe punishment. 
As I seriously considered this matter, my courage 
increased, and I finally concluded to attempt it. Step- 
ping up on the lower rail of the banister, I leaned over 
and, carefully lifting the gun over, lowered the muzzle 
until it pointed fairly down on the man, and was only 
a few feet from the top of his unconscious head. 
Trembling with excitement, I pressed the stock to my 
shoulder as I hung over the railing immediately over 
him and, with two fingers on the heavy trigger, began 
to pull with all my strength. Until fairly out of breath 
I tugged on the trigger, expecting every instant to hear 
the loud report and see the man fall dead, suddenly 
cut short in his awful career of crime. Ceasing my 
strenuous efforts finally, and pausing to get a better 
hold on the trigger, it suddenly occurred to me that 
the reason the gun had not gone off was the fact that 
in my excitement I had forgotten to cock it. My 
fears were now, for the time, fogotten, and I was all 
excitment for fear the man would discover me, and 
make his escape before I could kill him. 
My youthful mind in no wise realized the awful deed 
I was contemplating, in deliberately attempting to kill 
the man. It but seemed a brave and heroic act. One 
for which all good people would praise me, and best 
of all, one which would make me the envy of all the 
other boys of the town. 
Entirely forgetting the fearful racket made by the 
cocking of my weapon, I let go the trigger, laid hold 
on the ponderous lock and tugged away with might 
and main. The excitement under which I was labor- 
ing lent strength to my arm, and the first desperate 
pull brought the gun to half-cock, although I was using 
only one hand, instead of both as I usually found it 
necessary to do. 
If the gun had actually fired it could not have pro- 
duced a more startling sound than the loud click! which 
announced it at half-cock. 
As it rung out on the still night air, the burglar's 
head snapped back as though moved by an electric 
current, and I shall never forget the look of terror in 
the white face of the man as he suddenly looked up 
right into the muzzle of the gun pointing full down 
on him, and so fearfully near. 
I was again overcome with terror at being suddenly 
so discovered by the man whose life I was attempting, 
and hung over him speechless and motionless, wonder- 
ing what he would do to me. 
For an instant he gazed fixedly, as though fascinated, 
into the muzzle of the gun, and then I noticed that he 
seemed to be settling down as. if his legs were slowly 
sinking into the ground. 
Then suddenly, w r ith a shriek of terror that fairly 
split the air, and nearly caused me to fall over the 
railing, he sprang back with a mighty leap, which car- 
ried him fully twenty feet, and, turning, fled to the rear 
of the yard at top speed, leaping and dodging from side 
to side as he ran. 
The yard was high in the rear, and protected by a 
retaining wall of stone, and above the wall, and a little 
further back, was a high board fence. Neither of these 
obstacles seemed to present the least difficulty to the 
fleeing man. He ran up the wall like a scared cat and 
fairly flung himself over the fence. 
The street was steep and rocky in the rear, but I 
plainly saw and heard him continue his retreat with 
undiminished speed until he turned the next corner. 
It then took me a very short time to get back into 
the house where I was glad to find my sister undis- 
turbed, and quietly sleeping. 
When the family returned and heard the story of 
my adventure, they all, with the exception of brother 
Will, sympathized with me. Will insisted that I was 
"a chicken-hearted chump," and said I did not deserve 
ever to have another good chance at a burglar as long 
as I lived, and I very frankly told him that I hoped 
I never would. Lewis Hopkins. . 
A Trip to Ningp'o Lakes. 
BY H. MATHER HARE, M.D., INTERPRETER SECOND BRIGADE, 
CHINA EXPEDITIONARY FORCE. 
Shanghai, China. — For weeks we had anticipated it, 
and had longed for the day to come. Leave had been 
obtained from those in authority. Cartridges filled, guns 
in tip top order, and with everything "ready to the 
last buckle," behold us on board of the S.S. Chih Li, 
bound for the Ningp'o Lakes, and the ducks and geese, 
about whose numbers we had been hearing many tales, 
that we hardly dared believe. 
To a newcomer the departure of the Ningp'o steamer 
would seem more like Bedlam than anything else, but 
as you watch the crowds of Chinese coming and going, 
you see that progress is being made toward order, in 
spite of the seeming confusion. 
Peddlers swarm, of course, selling all kinds of horrible 
looking compounds to the deck passengers, with which 
to sustain themselves during the long cold night. 
Several men, carrying tin cans full of hard boiled 
eggs, kept warm by pans of glowing charcoal, squeeze 
in between the throngs of hurrying coolies, until one 
wonders how it is possible for them to keep their feet. 
Some have taken the trouble to color the eggs a 
vivid red, reminding one of the Easter eggs at home. 
Sold at about five cents a dozen, with salt thrown in, 
they did not strike one as being dear; but no purchaser 
would think of giving such a price, without haggling 
over it, and saying "the eggs were small," "the price 
was too high," etc., etc., then end by paying it, as he 
knew in the beginning he would have to do. 
Instead of 4 o'clock, it was an hour later when the 
ship's papers came on board and we were free to go. 
Once away from the wharf, the deck passengers began 
to settle themselves for the night, and spread thin 
bedding in what looked like a comfortable spot, never 
neglecting for a moment to curl themselves round their 
various baskets and bundles, as a partial safeguard 
against robbery. There being but two small staterooms, 
with one berth in each, for four passengers, two of 
us had to take the locker in the saloon, but with plenty 
of blankets from the steward we were fairly comfort- 
able. It seemed as if there was a continual procession 
of Chinese "boys" tramping in or out of the saloon 
all night, getting a warm drink, or a lunch for some 
of the officers either coming off, or going on watch, 
and each time they came in, they allowed the door to 
slam, so that our sleep was of the fitful variety. 
A cold bath in the muddy water of the Yang-tsz 
River, followed by a cup of tea and toast, made one 
feel like a walk on deck to see the sun rise; and in a 
few minutes up it came, changing the clouds to all 
sorts of shades, which — not being a spring poet — I will 
not attempt to describe. 
The entrance to the Ningp'g River is guarded by 
