544 
FOREST AND STREAM 
October, 19 ly 
day in that region. Around 86 pounds. 
The trip taught me two things: First, 
get out beyond the little tribes ; that s 
where the big ones wait for prey. Sec- 
ond, do not anchor your boat to any 
fixed stake or stump that’s been in the 
stream any length of time. Have a stone 
or some other heavy weight to throw out 
from each end of your boat. Trout and 
bass are shy; the least jar of any fa- 
miliar thing to them will send them scur- 
rying away. 
The above day’s fishing did not end in 
the proverbial fashion; I caught all “the 
big ones,” and none got away. Hence 
I could not lie after the manner of 
fisherman ! 
Henry S. Alkire, 
With S. Troops, Mexican Border. 
A TRUE OCCURRENCE 
A fter reading Mr. Ben C. Robin- 
son’s “Angling for the Gamey 
Bass” in the July Forest and Stream, I 
am reminded of something that might 
interest others who are fond of bass 
fishing and know their peculiarities. 
With some friends I was strolling 
along a pond where we knew there were 
bass and seeing some lying quietly to- 
gether near the bank, we watched them 
for a time then decided to return home. 
The writer thoughtlessly threw a partly 
used cigar into the w'ater. It no sooner 
struck the water than what appeared to 
be a two-pounder took it. The sad part 
comes now. Next day a dead bass was 
found floating in the pond and, upon 
being opened, the cigar butt was found 
which had caused its sad death. 
H. N. Homsher, Penn. 
BENNETT’S LONG GUN 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream : 
Y OU ask me to tell the readers of 
Forest and Stream something about 
the long gun showm in the accompany- 
ing picture. There is very little of gen- 
eral interest I can tell. The gun was 
made in London, England, in 1799, as 
told by a brass plate on the stock. The 
barrel is five feet seven and one-half 
inches long, and the gun as it stands 
is seven feet in length. The gun I have 
in my left hand is an ordinary 32-inch 
barrel, to show the contrast in the length 
of the two pieces. 
The old gun was brought to this coun- 
try soon after it was made and sold to 
my grandfather, John Bennett, who lived 
in Maryland, twenty-three miles from 
Baltimore, and the same from Washing- 
ton. Grandfather had it on the farm 
during the War of 1812, and to keep it 
from being confiscated by the British hid 
it in the woods, where he also hid his 
horses. When I was living on the old 
homestead with my father I remember 
his telling me about grandfather seeing 
a flock of mallard ducks drop down into 
the river one day, and of taking the long 
gun down after them. Crawling up to 
the bank he saw a bunch of eight ducks 
well bunched and firing at them, killed 
seven dead and wounded the eighth. I 
have often heard my father say it would 
kill game at 130 yards. I do know it 
will kill at a long distance. The last 
time the writer ever shot it at game was 
at Glencoe, Minnesota, many years ago, 
when he killed and got seven ducks at 
one shot. 
I have passed the gun down to my son, 
A. A. Bennett, of Renville, Minnesota. 
Of course it was originally a flint-lock, 
but after coming to Minnesota in 1856 
my father had it changed to a percussion 
lock, and used it to shoot squirrels and 
pheasants in the woods along Root River. 
The old gun, before being brought west, 
was the cause of the death of many a 
canvasback duck on the Chesapeake Bay. 
The following incident may be of in- 
terest: In the spring of 1879, while an 
The long gun compared with a fowling 
piece of thirty-two-inch barrels 
employee of the Government Printing 
Office at Washington, I decided to make 
a trip to the old homestead, just to see 
how it looked, and started out not know- 
ing just how to get there. I took a 
B. & O. train for a point I knew could 
not be far from where I wished to go, 
and then went by stage a few miles. 
Coming to a cross-road’s store I went 
in and asked the man in charge, who 
was just about my own age, if he knew 
of a family of Bennett’s who used to 
live in that section. He said he did not. 
Then, after a moment’s thought, he said : 
“Yes, I do, too. I remember now there 
was such a family, and that the old man 
had a very long gun, and my father used 
to say he had to go upstairs to load it.” 
I said: “Mister, I have that gun.” He 
replied, “Then you are on the right track, 
it is about two and a half miles from 
here.” I walked down to the place indi- 
cated and found the old homestead, and 
the old gun had helped me to find it. 
C. A. Bennett, Minn. 
A MISSOURI GOOSE HUNT 
To the Editor of Forest and Stream: 
M any are the stories I have read in 
Forest & Stream that delight the 
heart of the true hunter, and bring back 
pleasant memories of the past, which 
may never return. 
Nine years ago we built a cabin on 
the Fabius River, and as we frequently 
had to cross it in our pursuit of game, 
we proceeded to build a boat, making 
the joints tight with pitch and white lead. 
We soon had one which would stand all 
the high waters. 
But I started to tell of a goose hunt 
to the big lakes. You must understand, 
at the present, a goose is something to 
be proud of in the northeast part of Mis- 
souri; although in the past, we had no 
difficulty in bagging all we cared for. 
It was early in October and snowing to 
beat the band, when Doc, Ben, Clem and 
I persuaded ourselves to wander out. 
We awoke early in the morning before 
the sun was up, filled our pockets with 
food and started for the big lakes, 7 
miles distant. Ben had about three feet 
of sausage, Doc the bread, Clem and I 
brought the trimmings, each carrying 
two. live decoys. With what we had 
stowed away at the cabin and with what 
we could kill, we figured we were good 
for two days at least. 
A cold structure, this cabin was; built 
by ourselves and lined with paper, but as 
we had a good stove, it kept us warm as 
long as we carried in enough wood. We 
rustled this with an ax which was always 
there. Never yet have we gone hungry, 
although it was late many a night when 
the last one brought in the meat for the 
next day. Sometimes it looked as though 
breakfast was simply going to be a mat- 
ter of washing our faces. 
We had been there two days and were 
out of meat. It was early in the morn- 
ing, and the wind was blowing a hur- 
ricane of snow, making it unfit for any- 
one to venture out. But as this had 
come up suddenly and there had been 
geese flying the day before, we decided 
that it was “Root hog or die,” so we 
got out our guns and sallied forth, try- 
ing to pretend that each one was just 
aching to get into the storm. We looked 
over every lake that was within walking 
distance, but nobody fired a shot, there 
being nothing to shoot, not even a rab- 
bit. 
Finally we got to the big lakes, and a 
hunter in our position only can imagine 
our feelings at seeing the lakes covered 
with geese and duck. Three drakes and 
five hens comprised our decoys, and we 
proceeded to stake a few of them. Ben 
had just started with two drakes, when 
six old greenheads arose within shoot- 
ing distance. We just dropped the de- 
coys and we all stood with our Moaths 
