326 
FOREST AND STREAM 
offing near your right ear and announces, “That 
professional is shooting the straightest gun ever 
seen on these grounds, yes, sir, only one and 
three-quarters inch drop at the heel and one and 
a quarter at the comb. Ye want to try her, ’bout 
everyone has, and say, she points as true as a 
weather-vane and feels as light as a feather, 
eight-pound gun, too.” “If the frost don’t git 
my corn I’m going ter have one of them guns 
or bust a horn off. I’m scared to pick her up 
again for fear I can’t let go.” 
FOR SALE 
An Opportunity of a Lifetime 
TREASURE ISLAND, comprising about seventy- 
five acres in Lake Griffin, on route of the Ockla- 
waha canal to Jacksonville; can leave the dock 
at the bungalow on a yacht and cruise up the 
famous Ocklawaha river into the St. Johns, 
thence to Jacksonville. All cleared, improved 
and suitable for a winter home; a winter colony 
of fifty to 200 homes; or for a hunting and fish¬ 
ing club. Has a large bungalow, completely fur¬ 
nished; three cottages, servants’ quarters, sta¬ 
bles and barns, two boathouses, seven wharves, 
one 3 7-foot cruising cabin yacht, one 17-foot 
open launch; six fishing boats and complete 
fishing outfit, including storage for any amount 
of live bait. Its shores teem with fish, making 
it a perfect FISHERMAN’S PARADISE. Splen¬ 
did water supply from two FLOWING WELLS, 
four-inch; the only two in this section. Island 
can be connected with mainland by roadway, 
enabling automobiles to go from mainland to 
bungalow on point of island, about one mile in 
the lake. 
Treasure Island is FREE FROM FROST; toma¬ 
toes, peppers, potatoes, beans, squash, straw¬ 
berries, cabbage, lettuce and peas have been 
growing there all winter without slightest indi¬ 
cation of cold damage. The entire island, about 
seventy-five acres, is now planted in the above 
named vegetables, which should realize the pur¬ 
chaser several thousand dollars. 
With the island, goes an excellent citrus nur¬ 
sery business comprising approximately two 
million trees, complete with tools and imple¬ 
ments, live stock, wagons, houses for foremen, 
s-ables and barns; office equipment and automo¬ 
bile. A COMPLETE GOING ORGANIZATION, 
NOW DOING BUSINESS WITH COMPETENT 
FOREMEN AND SALES DEPARTMENT. The 
nursery is located on about 1 00 acres of land, 
well situated, set in grapefruit grove form so the 
GROVE WILL REMAIN AFTER THE NURSERY 
TREES ARE SOLD. The larger part of the nur¬ 
sery land is LAKE-FRONT PROPERTY. With 
this property goes the charter, issued but not 
used, for $250,000. 
Both properties will be sold as one at a sacri¬ 
fice for QUICK SALE; as the owner is com¬ 
pelled to retire on account of ill health. They 
are well located in a healthy and beautiful part 
of Florida, with excellent hard roads and rail¬ 
road station on the property. 
THE ENTIRE PROPOSITION MUST BE 
SEEN TO BE APPRECIATED 
AN EXCELLENT OPPORTUNITY TO MORE 
THAN DOUBLE YOUR MONEY IN A VERY 
SHORT TIME. 
Address QUICK SALE, LOCK BOX 3, LEES¬ 
BURG, FLA. 
“Say, who’s ahead on this silver watch fob 
business?” you ask. 
“You and Uncle Charles are prize turkeys on 
that. See, its posted right here, and say, you’ve 
got five added targets. I hope there ain’t thir¬ 
teen in the shoot-off; I hate that miss-and-out 
system.” 
A volunteer squad hustler has already herded 
squad number one to the score. All eyes are on 
“Skinney” at position number one. He is shoot¬ 
ing a six-dollar single-barrel, but is as happy as 
though it were a six-hundred-dollar work of art. 
He moans huskily for his target in the true pro¬ 
fessional voice. Away it skims like a lark. 
“Skinney” holds on, pulls, pulls again and yet 
again, each pull augmented by a spasmodic yank 
of the muzzle of the gun and a further stretch¬ 
ing of necks of the spectators. The target breaks 
in half about ten feet off the ground, almost out 
of sight. All hands voice their approval. “Skin¬ 
ney” is elated. Number two says a little prayer, 
pokes his automatic out at the trap house and 
draws a straight-away that alights safely on the 
sod. Number three ducks the automatic’s ejected 
shell with a neatness born of long practice and 
good-naturedly cusses his luck at being squaded 
alongside an auto gun. No automatic for him, 
no siree. He calls loudly over his two burnished 
tubes for a target and leaves a little pinch of 
blue dust quite close to the trap house. One of 
the two oldest members of the club stands at 
position five; old in years, but not at heart. His 
eyes can’t find the targets till they get well 
away, but his aim is deadly none the less. More 
often than not his total score places his name 
only second to one on the score sheet and he 
never misses a club shoot. And so squad number 
one goes at the first event of fifteen targets hot 
and heavy, each individual covering himself with 
glory or gloom in direct ratio to his breakage. 
To the left of the flagpole and just back of 
the score and bulletin boards is the gun rack, 
and such a collection. There in a prim row stand 
guns wise in partridge lore, guns that pulled 
down the fox “a good twelve rod, by gum!” All, 
double, automatic, repeater, built for the open 
season on game. But no; there is an unfamiliar 
gun on the end. It must be the professional’s. 
My! but what a beauty. A long stock straight 
of grip, fat of comb, and the wood, dark, rich, 
watered satin, fitted by an artist to a frame cun¬ 
ningly engraved and locked solidly to two bar¬ 
rels black as midnight without, bright as bur¬ 
nished silver within. It attracts the boys like a 
pan of milk a spaniel pup, and it has won you 
already. 
The second squad is loudly called for. Ere 
long your right barrel will radiate heat like a 
cob pipe at a country fair, for you are number 
three in this squad and mighty glad you brought 
along the little red hand protector. Standing at 
the score playing with your fifteen favorite trap 
loads in your shell bag, you overhear a kindly na¬ 
tive remark, “Now ye’ll see some shooting.” 
And sure enough you have been squaded with 
the fastest five. But you have been lucky in the 
few last shoots and your score warrants it. A 
quiet brother stands at position one. That quiet 
manner conceals a quick eye and sure swing. He 
snuffs his target seemingly without effort. No 
less a celebrity than the professional stands to 
your right, his good-natured face grown serious 
for an instant, for it hasn’t taken him long to 
discover that trap number one sends a target 
screaming out a good sixty-five yards, while trap 
two tosses up a little pop fly a scant forty yards. 
Among those who draws up to see the visitor is 
an old gentleman who throws away a shell box 
he has been tearing into squares, pulls his cap 
over his eyes and makes ready to secretly absorb 
every motion of that gamy, confident way 
professionals have with their guns. Would 
that we could observe in other walks of 
life every little rule of etiquette as does the pro¬ 
fessional in his. He calls for his target in an 
off-keynote that brings a happy smile to the old 
gentleman back of him and it lasts till long after 
the target has been smashed close to the traps. 
Pure luck brings you a string of thirteen out of 
the fifteen when the event is over. The “pro” 
and you have tied, but you know something the 
crowd leaves out of its reckoning. You know 
the professional has not been getting his targets 
promptly when he called for them, that the traps 
throw at different speeds; in fact, he would 
have gone straight nine times out of ten with a 
perfect outfit while you have been shooting over 
this outfit all summer. You have a feeling down 
in your heart that you wish he had his fifteen 
straight chalked down to him and hope he will 
lead by a good margin in the next event of ten 
targets. But your uncanny luck won’t leave you 
and you run straight in this event while he drops 
one. Of course you are overjoyed to get the 
silver watch fob trophy and wear it as proudly 
as any engaged girl a two-carat diamond. The 
silver cup goes to a shooter who had an added 
target handicap like unto a barrel of blue rocks 
and he is overcome with joy. He creeps off to 
take a look at it all alone while several sing out 
to him, “Say, ye going to git something to put 
into it?” 
Now that the prize shooting is over, all seri¬ 
ousness is thrown to the winds, squad after squad 
is made up. “Steve,” a good brush shot, falls 
into his habit of dropping to one knee when the 
target springs away and can’t see why his cylin¬ 
der barrel won’t “mash” ‘um. Uncle Charles 
makes a double hole in his shell box each time 
by calling for a double, and everybody leans 
with him for the second target and sighs with 
him as it alights on the ground. 
As though to crown the events of the day, a 
rabbit, a real live bunny, rushes into the arena 
seventy yards beyond the trap house, sees his 
mistake in a twinkling and returns whence he 
came. The baying of a beagle pup heard the last 
half hour is explained. A full company of trap 
shooters skurry across the meadow in ragged 
order and line up on the bank overlooking the 
river bottoms like a row of crows on a rail fence, 
some with their heads inclined to catch the faint¬ 
est sound, all with mouths wide open and pro¬ 
truding eyes. Silence reigns. A straggling re¬ 
treat is made. Another club shoot is over, but 
not till Uncle Charles, the patron saint of the 
club, has cornered the professional and told 
how Joe Brown was pinched by a bear at the 
mouth of a den as the bear coming out crowded 
by Joe going in. 
FRED. O. COPELAND. 
A tract of 2,600 acres, in Warren and Polk 
counties, Iowa, has been obtained for the first 
game preserve to be established in that part of 
the State. Des Moines issues twice as many 
licenses as any other city in the state, it is 
claimed. 
