Nov. 29, 1913- 
FOREST AND STREAM 
679 
isn't no fool.” Then we saw a covey of quail 
near enough the pasture gate to get a good 
rest, but my doubts as to which end was the 
most dangerous part of the gun were so great 
I hesitated too long, and they took alarm and 
flew. Prince all the time standing well back 
with a finger in each ear. 
“Deffum me ef I don’ plug um up tight,” 
he said. Then with a look of scorn on his 
black face, when the birds flew, he turned and 
walked toward his noon meal. 
“No game?” joked the Colonel, as we sat 
down to what he was pleased to term a “light 
lunch,” consisting of fried chicken, baked 
sweet potatoes and boiled rice. “No game? 
Am afraid you are a poor hunter. No rest? 
Gun too heavy? Why do you suppose I sent 
that boy along? Make him stand still and 
rest the gun barrel on his shoulder.” 
“That was a new idea. Looked like that six 
fingers would have to be fired. 
“Say you, Prince,” sailed Colonel Howard, 
as the sun began to look slantwise on Mother 
Earth, and the afternoon air commenced to 
chill. “You let Master Ed rest the gun on 
vour shoulder when he wishes to shoot, and 
show him how to sneak on that flock of 
ducks in Cottonwood Pond.” 
“Yars, sir, “I’ll show um,” said the boy, 
this time without his usual grin, and together 
we started for the pond. 
There was first a stretch of nice tall broom 
grass, then a thick fringe of rushes, so sneak¬ 
ing was easy. Reaching moist ground, a whisp 
of snipe zigzagged away, then closer to the 
open water two mallard sprang into the air, 
and with loud quacks flew to some more quiet 
spot. Removing our caps and carefully look¬ 
ing over the rushes, we saw a dozen teal sit¬ 
ting in the shallows not twenty yards away. 
I hoped they would fly. There was no more 
romance in the gun. I was afraid of it. If 
that cowardly Prince only would take a crack 
at them! I motioned that he should try. He 
shook his head in a decided negative. Then 
I must. The gun was cocked with a loud 
click, which made the teal look to see what 
that unusual sound could be. They were 
young birds, and had never been chased and 
hunted until they got shy; still they swam to¬ 
gether, heads up, poised for instant flight it 
they suspected danger. 
Resting the gun on the boy’s shoulder, its 
muzzle projecting three feet in front of him, 
I took an unsteady aim and pulled the trigger 
and pulled again. One finger wasn’t strong 
enough, so I used two and pulled some more. 
At last the hammer fell, a shower of sparks 
came as flint struck steel, then—pouf! the 
priming flashed with a blaze and a cloud of 
smoke, at which the teal jumped ten feet 
straight into the air and scattered in every 
direction. 
Afterward there came a roar almost as loud 
as that of a cannon, followed by a kick—and 
such a kick! Surely it was man’s size. The 
gun seemed to act like a vicious horse, which 
standing on its forefeet, launches out behind 
with all the weight of his body centered in the 
blow. I went spinning back and landed face 
down in a puddle with the gun on top of me. 
Prince was whimpering as he lay in six inches 
of water rubbing the side of his head, trying 
to laugh, yet wanting to cry, for the jumping 
gun barrel had hit his ear a crack that landed 
him where he was lying. The teal fared best 
of all. They were many feet above where the 
shot struck, and if ducks ever do laugh, these 
went away smiling all over their faces. 
“Say, Marsa Ed, don’ you Pink six fingers 
am too much fer her?” the negro remarked as 
he sat up, still rubbing his damaged ear. I 
did. Moreover, I told him so as emphatically 
as a well mannered boy dared, then gathered 
myself together, poured a lot of water out of 
the gun, and started for higher and dryer 
ground and game less elusive than ducks. 
It took nearly all that remained of the 
handkerchief to dry the gun, and a bad job 
was done then. 
In reloading, a scant three fingers was all 
the ramrod showed, and it was a dove or a 
lark—something in a tree any way—that was 
selected for the victim. When the trigger was 
pulled, a snap without even a spark was all 
that came from the damp flint, which neither 
of us had thought of drying. 
The bird wasn’t as scarey as the teal. He 
didn’t fly. Just hopped a little and looked. 
Perhaps he knew his customers. Soon a dry 
flint was screwed in, and kneeling behind 
Prince, I pulled again. There was a sizzling 
spurt of flame like that of a one-horse Roman 
candle. The shot and burning wadding fell 
in front of the negro, and the bird, not caring 
for Christmas fireworks on so cheap a scale, 
flew away. 
The gun had not been dried sufficiently in¬ 
side, and it was fortunate enough force re¬ 
mained in the powder to clear the barrel of 
shot and wads. 
One more attempt, and if that failed, it was 
back to the house empty-handed; so a good 
solid charge—four fingers this time—-was 
rammed home, but Prince positively refused 
risking again his head and ear, and it looked 
like no more shooting that day. 
While I was arguing to convince the boy 
that four fingers would not kick nearly as 
much as six, a flock of blackbirds lit in a tree 
inside the pasture. Using the gate for a rest, 
1 shot and killed four fine, fat red-wing fel¬ 
lows. So what matter if the gun did send 
me on my back again and make my nose 
bleed. It would kill, and I' had game to show 
when I reached the house. 
That night Colonel Howard gave me a 
double-barrel gun, which looked fit for a king, 
and said, “You can use this the rest of your 
visit. Put that old relic somewhere, so it 
won't fall down and kill one of the servants. 
I was trying to see if you had grit enough to 
even shoot it once, and now I am satisfied.” 
On returning home after the holidays, I 
had but to close my eyes to see game every¬ 
where—ducks, and doves, quail and lark in 
such quantities, the real thing was put to 
shame by visions. 
And the first week of school? And the 
lessons? And the master’s strap? Never 
mind them. All this happened so many years 
ago a man cannot remember everything, and 
it is well, sometimes, that a veil of oblivion 
hides the past. 
The more you advertise, the more people 
know you are in business. 
Forest Officers Help States Protect Game. 
An agreement to co-operate with the State 
of New Mexico in the protection of game on 
national forests has been entered into by the 
United States Forest Service’. Negotiations 
looking toward a similar arrangement with the 
game wardens of Arizona are under way. On 
the other hand, the game wardens will report 
to the nearest forest officer any fires they may 
discover on or near a national forest. 
The present plan is a logical development of 
the general policy of the Forest Service to help 
the State authorities in game protection. It 
specifies more definitely than heretofore the ex¬ 
tent of the co-operation forest officers are ex¬ 
pected to furnish. In a letter to State Game 
Warden Trinidad C. de Baca, the Government 
outlines the proposed activities of Forest 
Service men in assisting to enforce the game 
laws of New Mexico, as follows: 
Forest officers will pay strict attention to- 
the enforcement of the game laws in so far as 
their duties permit, by reporting all cases of 
violation of the game laws to the regular deputy 
State game warden in whose district an offense 
is committeed. They will make arrests in fla¬ 
grant cases where it is impossible to notify 
the deputy State game warden, and where the 
violator is likely to leave the section of the 
country. They will also furnish to the proper 
officers all available information, which will 
assist them in apprehending or prosecuting vio¬ 
lators of the game laws. 
The rangers will further be expected, as 
far as practicable, to keep a record of the total 
number of game animals by classes killed in 
their districts, to be turned in to the State 
game warden, at the end of the season. 
Maps showing the telephone connections 
of the Forest Service and the headquarters of 
the rangers will be furnished to deputy State 
game wardens by forest supervisors. 
In case the regular deputy State game 
warden discovers fire on an area within or con¬ 
tiguous to the forest, he is expected to prompt¬ 
ly notify the nearest forest officer of the fact. 
The matter of maintaining the game supply 
in New Mexico and Arizona is being taken up- 
energetically by both these States. On the Car- 
son, Pecos and Gila National Forests of New 
Mexico-, deer, wild turkey, and, in certain lo¬ 
calities, bear may be found, while on the Sit- 
greaves and Apache National Forests in Ari¬ 
zona big game in quantities abounds. In the 
White Mountains of the Apache and the Black 
Range of the Gila National Forest is some of 
the best hunting in the country. 
Can You Explain This ? 
One morning last winter, says a writer in 
Strand Magazine, I put out a saucerful of water 
in the garden to freeze, and about ten minutes 
afterward it had a skin of ice on the top. I 
then left it, and returned in an hour and a half’s 
time, when there was a tall pillar of ice sticking 
straight up from the surface, up the center of 
which was a string of air bubbles, forming a 
tube. It was not placed under anything from 
which water might drip on to it. I have tried 
to find out the cause and have not succeeded, but 
perhaps some reader may be able to do so. 
Paterson, N. J., now has its “Order of 
Ducks.” It is incorporated to promote outdoor 
sports. 
