FOREST AND STREAM 
925 
Jhigh base shells and panther loads then, for you 
■are going to need them.” 
Surely such an event called for an umpire and 
referee and the crowd lost no time in choosing 
two popular and strong voiced members. They 
immediately took their places at either side of 
1 'the position marks and called for the contes¬ 
tants, who at once untangled themselves from 
'the crowd, which was showering them with ad¬ 
vice, and approached the score with as much 
(hesitation and jockeying as though in a “free 
for all” at the county fair. 
“Ben’s some puller, even if he is thinner than 
a hound’s hind leg,” remarked Sam to Eli, there¬ 
by opening the conversation again. 
“Some? Say, when he fondles that pulling 
lever he can feel the automatic’s heart beat and 
he can tell when a feller starts ‘Pull’ way down 
:in his lungs and can get the target going while 
'he’s still hollering.” 
The contestants in the meantime had got into 
.an argument about which should take the posi¬ 
tion at peg one, for both knew the advantage 
•of shooting down the five positions and finish¬ 
ing on peg five. The toss of a coin forced Hen 
much against his judgment to take the position 
at peg two, while Obadiah planted himself with 
a sigh of satisfaction at the first position. 
“Gentlemen,” announced the referee to the ex¬ 
pectant throng behind the stand, “for a few 
brief moments friendship ceases; a contest of 
skill is about to be pulled off; stakes, one plug 
of ‘Piper’; ten targets per man; sixteen yard 
rise; rank angles not barred; high gun wins. 
The short legged gentleman standing on position 
one is the champion fox hunter of Peth, that 
charming suburb of our little city. On peg two 
stands a man who needs no introduction, namely, 
the long distance hawk shooter of Rochester 
Holler. The man with the sorrel chin whiskers 
and cob pipe, holding up the flag pole to the 
right, is your umpire, who will ably assist in 
conducting the services. Contestants, the Blue 
Rocks await your pleasure.” 
“Pull,” hoarsely growled Obadiah. 
“Lost,” cried the referee. 
“Flinched,” announced Obadiah to the crowd 
as he blew the smoke from his gun into Hen’s 
face and reached for another shell. 
‘ Pull,” piped up Hen in a high strained voice. 
“Dead,” shouted the referee looking over to 
the umpire to see if he doubted it. 
Hen missed his fifth and seventh while both 
missed their eighth target and now with both 
tied and on their last peg the crowd giggled like 
a circle of girls at a husking-bee and with great 
effort refrained from shouting encouragement 
and advice. 
“Pull,” called Obadiah for his ninth bird. 
“Lost,” came the referee’s voice after Obadiah 
had pointed in the wrong place and then hurried 
a tardy load of shot in the right direction. 
“Say, you’ve got to get these on the fly,” com¬ 
plained Hen, “it don’t count after they light.” 
“Go ahead and miss your last two, you’ve 
spoiled the cadence in this squad already,” shout¬ 
ed Obadiah. 
Hen, somewhat over-taxed by this outburst, 
turned to call for his target but as he did so his 
gun went off yanking his arms back and prop¬ 
erly frightening him. 
“Consarn it! you’ll kill somebody with that old 
clothes prop yit,” yelped Obadiah, backing off, 
fellow 
Be An Early Bird This Year 
Practice up now for the season’s tro¬ 
phies. Start early. Be among the first 
out to pepper the speedy clay targets. Get an edge on the other 
while the season is still young. There’s no game can surpass 
TRAPSHOOTING 
for all ’round sport, health and pleasure. Gun “bugs” are the best of good 
fellows and there’s a hearty welcome ready and waiting for you at the 
nearest gun club. Have you seen the 
( guPDNt ) HAND TRAP 
R’s a practical little device that throws all kinds of targets. Folds up. 
Goes in a bag and makes trapshooting possible at any time or place. 
$4.00 at your sporting goods dealer’s or sent 
prepaid on receipt of price anywhere in the U. S. 
Write for Booklet, “THE SPORT AI.I.LJRING” No. 3 
E. I. du Pont de Nemours & Company, Wilmington, Del. 
When in Atlantic City visit the “Du Pont Store.” Pennsylvania Avenue & Boardwalk—see the big Du 
Pont Night Sign and try your skill at the Trapshooting School at the end of Young’s Million Tollar Pier. 
his eyes fascinated by the smoking muzzle of 
Hen’s gun. 
"Quit plugging the trap house,” howled the 
trap boy who by this time had untangled himself 
from the trap and cautiously shoved above the 
trap house roof a mop of hair still standing, fol¬ 
lowed by two wild round eyes. 
“Git back in. No one is trying to kill you, 
sonny,” voiced Hen, still a little white back of 
the ears. 
“Yes, git back in and lay down,” mocked Oba¬ 
diah, “or Hen will knock one of your horns off.” 
“Don’t let Obadiah scare ye, boy, and say, 
gi’me a straight away,” admonished Hen to the 
vanishing top knot. 
“Pull,” said Hen. 
“Lost,” wailed the referee. 
“Didn’t I git a piece out o’ that, Ump?” anx¬ 
iously inquired Hen, turning on the individual 
propped against the flag pole. 
“Wad,” decided that worthy, with a diplo¬ 
matic lift of one eyebrow, followed by a shift¬ 
ing of the feet and mighty pull at the corn cob. 
“I swan! I thought I peppered that old side¬ 
winder for fair,” said Hen to no one in par¬ 
ticular. 
“Pull,” jerked out Obadiah, anxious to have 
it over. 
“Lost,” echoed the referee. 
Obadiah couldn’t believe his eyes. He half 
turned around in the listening attitude of the 
Minute man at Concord, mutely asking the crowd 
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