Nov. 25, 1911.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
791 
Du P«n< Gun Club, Rifle Dept. 
The following scores were made on the range of the 
Du Pont Rifle and Revolver Club: 
Pistol practice, 50yds., Standard American target: D. 
Appleby 88, 83, 85, 93: K. K. V. Casey, 90, 76; L. du 
Pont, 92; S. B. Miller, 57, 53. 
pistol qualification scores, 50yds.: Dr. W. S. Weedon, 
69, 65, 72, 72. 
Rifle practice scores, 50yds., German ring target: C. 
\V. Pierce, 206 , 231, 214, 228, 229; Dr. Hudson, 23S; D. 
Appleby, 227, 242, 236; C. L. Walk, 222 , 216, 224; E. 
Dunlap, 206, 220; William Rommel, 221, 197, 219, 181; E. 
Moore, 156; T. Murnberg, 199, 202, 218, 192; W. E. 
Taylor, 174, 187, 1S5; L. C. S. Dorsey, 221, 224. 
Ball trap scores were as follows: W. Wood, 3, 2, 2, 7, 6; 
W. A. Shafer 5; Simpson, 2, 3, 3, 6; W. Hammond, 7, 
11, 8, 9. 
BEFORE THE MAST ON A SQUARE 
RIGGER. 
“I went to sea to cure myself,” said one of 
three seafaring men who sat at a rickety table 
of a restaurant that overlooks New York har¬ 
bor. “I was not sick, only becoming too ac¬ 
quiescent in the things of daily life, too tamed 
by routine experience; no bad thing in itself, 
but a process for the full grown man. I was 
a boy. 
“I had the thought of going to sea—just how 
it came I don’t know, except that I was in 
San Francisco and walked every day by the 
wharves and jetties, sat on the stringpieces and 
was made happy by the sight of a ship steam¬ 
ing in the Golden Gate or a schooner just 
anchored letting go halliards. 
‘‘But the idea came to me, and I said I would 
go. I had said it and had meant it; I wouldn't 
back out. A few days later a full rigged ship 
came into the harbor. She was the Wayfarer 
of Liverpool, with iron plates, but with not an 
ounce of steam. Her yards creaked aloft by 
the strength of men at the capstan bars, her 
anchors crept from the mud because men had 
strained their backs to move them. She was 
rather of clipper build and had tasted the sea 
first in 1886. 
‘‘I had to chase to half the ship chandleries 
in San Francisco to find the captain; I came 
upon him at last in the office of the owners’ 
agents; he was a Welshman with a temper and 
a good heart; he looked me up and down and 
told me to be at the British Consul’s at 10 the 
next morning to sign. I went away with my 
heart beating fast. I met two friends and was 
led to a sailors’ slop shop. The amiable little 
Jew who ran it was interested and outfitted me. 
I had no idea what I would want. He saw 
to it that I had everything needed, straw mat¬ 
tress, cheap cotton quilt, thin horse blanket, 
dungarees, a canvas bag, a sheath knife. 
“I signed articles the next morning. . The 
captain glowered by the shoulder of the Con¬ 
sul, who hastily read the treaty, a voyage be¬ 
tween latitudes so and so and so and so, longi¬ 
tudes this and that, of no more than three years 
duration. I did not hear a word of it all; my 
heart was beating too fast. 
“We were towed out through the Golden 
Gate the next morning. A chantey lightened 
the heaving on the windlass of forty fathoms 
of chain. The tug dropped our hawser in¬ 
side the Farallones and with twenty-three sails 
set we bore south by west, the trade strength¬ 
ening every minute. 
“It was the northeast trade and it carried us 
steadily south, but it was nearer an easterly 
wind than a north and it also took us west. 
In a month we were crossing the line some¬ 
where out in the Pacific where we had no busi¬ 
ness being. In a few weeks more we had 
caught the southeast trade and were driving 
pleasantly along to the south’ard, but also to 
the westward. And then on a calm broiling 
morning three islands crept up on the horizon; 
as we drew nearer we saw tufted palms, then 
great twin peaks of the largest isle, 1.700 feet 
high. The land was green, soft and freshly 
green, as from recent showers, and the haze 
draped it in a thin magical blue. It was Man- 
gareva. the largest of several islands of the 
Low Archipelago, under French dominion, in¬ 
habited by peaceful natives. We saw a canoe 
put forth from a rounded harbor. It moved 
evenly over the unruffled waters; from it came 
Be high man at the traps. 
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THE 
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If your shells were loaded 
with shot flattened like this, 
what chance would you 
have to 
-break your target 
-kill your bird or 
-beat your competitor 
in the match ? 
One deformed pellet upsets the pattern 
One poor pattern may give your competitor the match. 
Can you afford to take a chance on a powder that fuses (melts) the shot? 
The fusing or melting of shot pellets is caused by the muzzle burning of hard grain powder. 
This defedt has been overcome in the Dead Shot process by making the grains porous, 
tough and elastic. Dead Shot burns progressively from the chamber to the muzzle. Each 
shot pellet, therefore, leaves the barrel in spherical form. The resulting pattern increases your 
percentage on targets and makes your kills on 
game more certain. 
Dead Shot is the only porous grained 
powder, and we urge all shooters to compare its 
patterns with those made by any other powder. 
All dealers carry Dead Shot loads in stock. 
American Powder Mills 
Chicago Boston St. Louis 
