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IB “Motorgo Row Boat Engine Folder” No. 89F79. 
Sears, Roebuck and Co., Chicago 
Steers 
With a 
Rudder, 
THE BABY SHOOTER AT THE SPORTS- 
MAN’S SHOW. 
Editor Forest and Stream : 
There were many things to be enjoyed at the 
recent Show in Grand Central Palace, New York, 
given under the direction of your journal. It is 
no wonder, therefore, that the following incident 
escaped general comment. I frequented this ex¬ 
hibition principally to hear what the guides and 
visitors had to say about hunting and fishing 
conditions in their various localities. One after¬ 
noon I found myself in the shooting gallery at 
the northeast corner of the main floor. About a 
dozen persons were hanging about the place, 
watching a large, full-chested man who was ring¬ 
ing the gong pretty regularly while a shower of 
exploded shells from the “corn sheller” flew about 
him. At the close of his performance no one 
seemed willing to resume firing. Things began to 
look pretty bad for the gallery. 
Just then I noticed an evidence of interest on 
the part of a small boy who stood with his mother 
at one end of the room. This little kid who was 
dressed from head to foot in a warm, knitted 
Teddy Bear costume of dead grass color, could 
not have been more than seven years old. He 
walked slowly to the shelf where the little rifles 
lay, then reached up and pulled one down toward 
himself butt first. Several of us were about to 
rush forward and prevent this mere baby from 
doing himself and others possible harm, but he 
instantly showed such perfect knowledge in the 
handling of the rifle that his mother's reassuring 
smile was all that was needed to quell any anx¬ 
iety that we had felt. We, accordingly, fell back 
and watched him in amazement. 
His babyship motioned to an attendant to bring 
him a stool, upon which he slowly climbed and 
found himself about two feet above the gun 
counter. He then put the rifle to his face and 
peeped across the sights toward the targets. The 
gun seemed too long for his tiny arms to hold 
properly, and he had to twist his little neck con¬ 
siderably to get his range. Finally he pulled the 
trigger and cut off the long stem of a clay pipe, 
but failed to ring. 
Did this bad luck fease my little sharpshooter? 
Not a ’bit. He looked a little reproachfully at the 
rifle for a moment and again tucked it carefully 
under his chubby cheek. With great deliberation 
he again pulled. The crackling sound of smashed 
clay followed and the great gong sang out a pean 
of victory for the modest young marksman, who 
fired five times more in rapid succession, breaking 
a clay pipe each time, while the old bell continued 
to sound forth his praise. 
Our champion was too young to mind the 
plaudits of the crowd, for he laid the rifle down 
carefully, jumped to the floor and nestled in his 
mother’s loving arms, quite like the baby that he 
was. A moment later he walked up and paid his 
scot just as any big man would do, took his 
mother’s hand and quietly walked out of the 
booth. His astonished audience talked .about 
nothing but that performance for quite a while. 
He did not appear again during the show to my 
knowledge. [There is a present for this youthful 
leather stocking in the Forest and Stream offices 
whenever he chooses to call for it.—Editor.] 
“SI. LEX,” New York, N. Y. 
SPORTSMAN’S SAFETY BILL. 
Editor Forest and Stream : 
Dear Sir:—If 1 may be permitted to trespass on 
your patience by saying a word in regard to the 
Sportsman's Safety Bill, I would like to call your 
attention to a matter that is being discussed in 
this connection. 
There is some danger of what is proposed in 
the Sportsman’s Safety Bill being side-tracked by 
another and less .effective measure. A bill has 
been introduced in the New York Legislature re¬ 
quiring the sportsman to wear some kind of pro- 
tecitve color, preferably red. Unfortunately, this 
proposition is wrong in principle. It does not at¬ 
tack the evil at its source. Instead of requiring 
the careless sportsman to give up his practice of 
being careless, it compels other sportsmen to 
guard against his careless acts. Only that por¬ 
tion of the community employed in the act of 
hunting are required to wear protective colors. 
The nurse or mother strolling through the woods 
with a babe in her arms; the farmer's lad seeking 
the cows in the bush; people who in one way or 
another may be wandering around with no thought 
of hunting, are exposed to as much danger, but 
they are not elected to salvation, and lucky are 
they if they escape the trophy hunter who is after 
their scalps. The situation recalls that thrilling 
period spoken of in Biblical history, when all the 
first born of Egypt were doomed. The chosen of 
the Lord were required to mark their dwellings 
with the blood of a lamb so that the destroying 
angel might pass them over unharmed, and those 
that were not so marked must pay the penalty. 
The careless sportsman is the destroying angel 
who ranges the wilderness on an errand of de¬ 
struction, admonished, however, to spare the 
chosen ones, his fellow sportsmen decorated with 
