January 3, 1914. 
FOREST AND STREAM 
15 
naturally brought us together, and we concluded 
to go over the ridge, and try the gulches again, 
as one could take the dog along the brush at the 
bottom, and leave a man on each side, on the 
open ridges. 
As we reached the top of the ridge, a big 
buck jumped out from where he had been lying 
in a clump of brush, and started down the open 
hillside at a tremendous gait with Carlo not far 
behind. 
“Don’t shoot the dog!” “Crack!” went John's 
rifle, followed by the report of Frank’s 44, but 
the buck went on. 
“Watch me fetch him!” I yelled, and when 
my rifle cracked, he sprang into the air, and fell 
head over heels down the hill; but gathering 
himself up before the dog got to him, he jumped 
into the brush like a flash, followed by a bullet 
from all three guns. Carlo chased him for nearly 
half a mile, but came back disgusted at our poor 
marksmanship. The buck was probably only 
stunned or “creased.” 
It began to look as though we were either 
very unlucky, or very poor hunters, and Frank 
in his usual reckless manner offered to eat all 
that we killed that day at one meal, and he 
added, “I won’t count John’s big buck out, 
either.” 
We “ran” the gulch, but not starting any¬ 
thing, we concluded to turn back and hunt toward 
home. As we struck a big “fern flat” back of a 
ranch, John and Frank took the trail, and were 
“visiting” along as usual, when the dog, who 
was with me, raised his nose and started cau¬ 
tiously working “across wind.” Suddenly a buck 
and a doe sprang out of a little hollow, and 
started to circle around me at a slow trot. 
Thinking I would take the buck first, I jerked 
my rifle to my shoulder, and drawing down on 
his neck, pulled the trigger. As he did not drop, 
I jerked another cartridge into the chamber, and 
fired again. Still he kept right on. Another shot 
seemed to have no effect on him, and I got 
desperate, as he was out in the “open” and not 
going fast, the dog having chased the doe away 
from him. 
I lowered the rifle, and as my eye caught the 
sight, I understood what was wrong. Someone 
had shoved the sight up to the last notch, so that 
I had been shooting point blank with the sight 
raised for 300 yards. I lowered it as quickly as 
possible, and just had time for a “snap shot” as 
his lordship entered the edge of the brush. 
The dog had followed the doe, which had 
turned for the mountain, and was out of sight. 
I called to Frank and John to come and see if 
I had wounded the buck, but they had gone on 
down the trail, and wouldn’t come back, although 
I told them I thought I had hit him. 
I followed on after them in a not very 
pleasant mood, and when I came in sight of them 
I called out: 
“What’s the matter with you fellows, don’t 
you want any deer? Why didn’t you ‘open up’ 
on them when they started?” 
“We thought it was no use, that you would 
surely get them both before they got out of 
range, so we took in the sport,” said Frank. 
“If I had known you couldn’t shoot I would 
have ‘chipped in.’ ” said John, trying to get even 
for the “big buck.” 
“That’s all right,” I replied; “but if my sight 
had been all right, you fellows would be carrying 
a deer apiece by now, and no fawns, either.” 
“Well, we won’t quarrel about it. I should 
like to suggest to the crowd, however, that we all 
■go home and practice up on my barn, and if 
we get so any of us can hit it twice in three shots 
at fifty feet, we will go hunting again, and—” 
“Oh, dry up, you fawn killer,” I interrupted 
him with. “You wait a minute until I see some¬ 
thing to shoot at,” and I looked around for a 
bird. Presently I saw a “high-holder,” or large 
red-headed woodpecker, on an old snag, about 
a hundred and twenty yards down the road 
which we were on by this time. 
I raised the rifle and took a quick shot at 
him in fun, but was surprised to see him fall, 
and upon getting up to where he lay we found 
that the bullet had taken his head off as clean 
as though done with an axe. 
“And couldn’t hit a deer at fifty steps?” said 
John. “I guess you had the ‘buck fever,’ ” and 
they both laughed. But I resolved to make a 
better record in the near future than I had that 
day. 
We got the fawn and went home with it. 
It was all we had to show for eight deer started, 
and some of them sighted. Poor luck? Yes; 
but wait. 
(To be continued.) 
The Book of Remington 
We have just received about as clever a piece 
of publicity as we ever have seen put out. That 
is—The History of the Remington Arms-Union 
Metallic Cartridge Company, prepared by the 
Search Light Library of this city. 
The book gives the entire history of the 
Remington Arms Company ante-dating ballis¬ 
tics, with the naked savage and his bow and 
arrow, the sling-shot, and all the interesting his¬ 
tory that goes therewith. 
The cover on this number is a reproduction 
of one of the illustrations in this book. 
Among many interesting chapters will be 
found the “Romance of the Remington Arms” in 
which is told a story of how a smith and his son 
were working at their forge, when the son asked 
his father for money to buy a rifle and was re¬ 
fused. The father began collecting scrap iron 
thereon, and made a gun barrel. He walked fif¬ 
teen miles to Utica, had it rifled and built a rifle 
of which he was proud. After a bit the neighbors 
began to order like weapons and the Remington- 
forge found itself hard at work to fill its orders. 
The history goes on to tell how. these two men de¬ 
vised machinery to do the work they were doing 
by hand, and a complete gun factory was the re¬ 
sult. 
In 1828 the elder Remington met his death 
through accident in testing a gun barrel. The son 
bought a farm near the Erie Canal, where the 
present Remington-U. M. C. plant stands. The 
concern sent around from farm to farm bargain¬ 
ing for broken plows, hatchets, kettles and any 
sort of odds and ends that could be transformed 
into a gun barrel. 
In 1845 when the Mexican war broke out, the 
United States Government in looking about for 
arms for defense came in contact with the Rem¬ 
ington Company and gave them an order for car¬ 
bines previously invented by William Jencks, 
which business made a National institution of a 
local organization. 
The rest of the story of the U. M. C. devel¬ 
opment is more or less a matter of intimate his¬ 
tory, excepting that it may not be known that 
Marcellus Hartley some thirty years after events 
previously mentioned became assistant book¬ 
keeper for Francis Tomes and Sons, dealers in 
hardware and sporting goods. He worked into 
the Gun Department and one day, a little later, 
in a Maiden Lane restaurant he met J. Rutsen 
Schuyler and Malcolm Graham and organized the 
firm of Schuyler, Hartley and Graham, taking 
over the trade of the younger Remington. From 
this developed the present concern of Reming¬ 
ton-U. M. C. Company. 
The book is replete, with tinted plates, of the 
entire story of which this is merely a frame-work 
and is full of interest to anyone acquainted, in a 
greater or less degree with fire arms. 
We do not know under just what conditions 
this book may be obtained, but it may be that if 
you would write to the Remington Arms-U. M. 
C. Company, you might entice them into sending 
you a copy. 
Dodging The Moonlight 
Sportsmen, and others, accustomed to sleep¬ 
ing out of doors, would do well to pull their 
blankets over their heads, during their hours of 
repose, if the result of experiments with moon 
beams, recently reported from Australia, count 
for anything. It appears that an Australian 
savant has made experiments, which prove to his 
own satisfaction, that moon beams cause decay, 
and we are all familiar with the old belief that 
sleeping in the moonlight is conducive to insan¬ 
ity. The average person is perfectly willing to 
take the chances of contracting “moon beam in¬ 
sanity,” so long as he can get to sleep; but now 
comes the positive assertion by “The Lancet,” the 
well-known London medical authority, that 
there is such a thing as “moon blinks,” and “that 
it is said to be due to sleeping in the moonlight 
in tropical climates.” There is nothing particu¬ 
larly startling about this statement, as it has long 
been a recognized fact that “there is an affliction 
called moon blinks,” but the Lancet goes on to 
state that certain recent experiments, made by 
trustworthy people, tend to prove that polarized 
light exerts a peculiar chemical influence; and as 
moonlight is simply the reflected light of the sun, 
and reflected light is more or less polarized, the 
Lancet concludes that the bad effect said to be ex¬ 
ercised by moon beams, may possibly be caused 
by the light from the moon. And on top of all 
this, the Lancet asserts that there is good reason 
for believing that fish that have been exposed to 
moon beams have in certain instances produced 
deleterious effects on the human system. A few 
more discoveries of this nature, and fishermen 
will begin to exercise their inventive genius with 
a view toward producing “moon-proof recepta¬ 
cles,” for containing fish, and sportsmen will be¬ 
come afraid “to go to sleep in the moonlight.” 
Anent the subject of “Light,” the novel, but 
reprehensible method of shooting game with the 
aid of the powerful rays from the head lights of 
automobiles, is being practiced by a number of 
huntsmen in Indianapolis. The mode of prosecu¬ 
tion is to first blind the intended victim by the 
dazzling glare of the light, and thereby get a pot 
shot. But even with the advantage gained by this 
unsportsmanlike operation the Indianapolis “pot 
shot hunters” have been amply demonstrating 
that they can hit almost anything from a horse to 
a house; they have killed live stock, and a num¬ 
ber of farm houses have been struck by their 
random shots. As a result of these depredations, 
the farmers of Indianapolis and the neighboring 
vicinity, have combined for the purpose of pre 
venting further havoc. Action will probably be 
taken on the ground that as the shooting is almost 
invariably done from the road, it constitutes a 
violation of the law which forbids firing across 
a public thoroughfare. 
Hunters Shot Many Rabbits 
Dickinson, N. D., Dec. 21.-— C. H. Merry, 
coal baron and farmer, too, is some hunter. This 
week he organized a jackrabbit hunt. The party 
consisted of Mr. Merry, Ed Barry, of Hettinger, 
and Os Chase. In two days the hunters returned 
with a wagon load of white bunnies, which when 
considered the biggest kill ever made in Hettinger 
County, if not in the state, for a two days’ shoot, 
counted showed a total of 120 rabbits. This is 
