Feb. 13, 1909] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
257 
Concerning Guns. 
Probably many men have been nearly shot 
by accident. The newspapers prove that very 
many have been actually. In the course of a 
varied career, I have accidentally shot two or 
three people, and have seen a few others 
peppered. In order that others may take warn¬ 
ing and avoid making the mistakes I made, I 
propose to mention a few of these incidents— 
for in no case were they accidents, though, as 
is usually the case, this was due to good luck 
rather than good management. 
In my early days I was taken out rabbit 
shooting by my sporting uncle. The keeper 
worked the ferrets. My uncle and I were on 
either side of the low hedge, which grew on the 
top of the bank. A young rabbit was bolted 
on my side. My uncle was standing some dis¬ 
tance from the hedge, in the open field. The 
rabbit kept running along the bank, sometimes 
at the top, sometimes at the bottom. I care¬ 
fully chose the time when it was on the top 
of the bank at a place where the hedge was 
thin, and when it was in a line with my rela¬ 
tive’s gaiters, I fired. There is no need to 
publish his remarks. He was naturally irri¬ 
tated. In the excitement following his narrow 
escape—though he did not consider it such—I 
carefully pointed my gun toward the ground 
and endeavored to let down the hammer of the 
barrel still loaded, but I held back the wrong 
hammer and pulled the “live” trigger. The 
charge blew a small hole in the ground a few 
inches from my left foot. I went straight 
home, thinking shooting a much over-rated pas¬ 
time. 
Again. I was one of a line of guns walking 
up partridge in Staffordshire. At the luncheon 
interval I had seen that my gun was wiped clean 
by my soldier servant. As we walked through 
a field of roots, the right gun, C., was thrown 
forward, and, owing to a depression in the 
ground, was out of sight of the rest of us. I 
was on the immediate left of this forward gun, 
with three other guns on my left. The nearest 
was T., a major in my own regiment, and a 
good, though very jealous shot. A hare got 
up and dashed straight away in front of me. I 
was waiting to allow it to get to a “killable” 
distance, when the Major fired and killed it. 
As he saw my gun come down, he said (think¬ 
ing I had fired also), “My hare, B.” “Yes,” I 
answered, calmly, though I certainly thought 
he might have let me have the shot, as all 
morning he had been “picking birds off the 
end of my gun.” 
Then we heard from C., the right gun. 
“Steady on up there; I’m hit,” he shouted. We 
went to him, and found that he was well 
peppered in the face and chest, while one or 
two pellets were very near the eyes. 
Two ladies had been walking with C., but 
as the root field was bad going, they had re¬ 
tired to wait at the fence till the field had been 
shot out. They now came up and lent a hat¬ 
pin, with which we dug out some of the shot 
from C.’s face. 
“By Jove, B., you must be careful,” said the 
Major to me. 
“On the contrary. Major,” I replied, “let this 
be a lesson to you to leave other people’s game 
to them, instead of trying to kill the whole bag 
to your own cheek.” 
“Do you mean to say you think I shot C.?” 
he asked wrathfully. 
“I know you did,” I answered, “and so does 
everyone else”—for we were now all grouped 
together, guns, ladies, beaters and all. 
“What do you mean?” he asked. 
Turning to my servant, I asked him, “P., did 
you clean my gun at lunch time?” 
“Yes, sir,” he answered. 
I then opened my gun and handed it round, 
observing, “You will notice, gentlemen, that I 
have not fired either barrel since lunch.” 
On another occasion, I was quail shooting 
near the pyramids in Egypt. There the green 
clover, locally called birseem, forms the cover 
for these birds, and we were three guns walking 
in line. On the ends of the line and between 
the guns were little Arab boys carrying a string 
on which hung small tin cans with stones or 
sticks in them, which swept the tops of the 
clover, and drove out the birds. The urchins 
also kept up a deafening noise of “Brr-brr-brr,” 
in imitation of the noise made by a rising 
quail. Sport was brisk and firing fairly con¬ 
tinuous. The clover was three feet high, and 
very nice shots were got in consequence. I 
fired at a bird going straight away from me, 
some eight feet high. He dropped, and from 
the clover about 100 yards ahead arose a yell. 
I felt a cold chill on the base of the spine, and 
all went forward to investigate. 
An old fellah had been sitting, hidden in the 
clover, cutting it with a prehistoric sickle. 
Squatting down, his back to us, he had been 
completely hidden by the birseem. He was 
well peppered astern, but on my giving him a 
forty-piastre piece, he offered me another shot 
at him, half price. 
Again, I was quail shooting; this time in 
India, near Umballa in the Punjaub with C., 
the cantonment magistrate. The crop we were 
shooting through on this occasion was cotton, 
about seven feet high. Before shooting 
through each patch, we had sent the shikari 
through, to see if all was clear, as it was the 
picking season. This had been done in the 
patch in question, and the man had returned 
and reported, “All right, Sahib, nothing there” 
—meaning that it was safe to shoot through it. 
So, in line, with boys and coolies, we proceeded 
to shoot. Half-way through the crop a bird 
crossed from my right to left, ten feet high. I 
fired, it dropped, and a deafening series of 
screams arose from the center of the patch. 
We found about forty women and girls 
clustered round a tiny girl who had been 
“sprayed.” About a dozen pellets had lodged 
in her chest. 
I was very glad C. was cantonment magis¬ 
trate. He at once sent for the I.umberdar— 
head man of the village—and gave the little 
girl into his charge, making him responsible 
for her safe custody until he should send a 
doctor and a police constable. 
“Now, B.,” said he, “that ends the shooting; 
we shall have to bolt at once.” So we sent a 
man to order the tonga-wallah to inspan at 
once, and hurried after him ourselves. The men 
of the adjoining village, who had been work¬ 
ing in the crops not far off, now began to ap¬ 
pear, armed with long iron shod sticks, and 
looking rather threatening. Plowever, we got 
off all right and drove to the police station in 
Umballa. From there C. despatched a corporal 
and guard to see that nobody but the headman 
in whose charge the child was, had access to 
her until the doctor arrived. Then we drove 
to the civil surgeon’s. He at once set off to 
see the patient and picked out the shot. 
When I asked C. why all these police pre¬ 
cautions were necessary, he replied, “Ah, my 
boy, you don’t know these people yet. That 
kid’s mother would gladly have poisoned the 
girl and said that she’d died from the effects of 
the gunshot if we hadn’t prevented her going 
near. She would then have expected a hundred 
rupees from you, and as it is, you will get off 
with ten.” 
This was the case, and I paid up gladly. The 
child was quite well in a week. 
Yet again, only the other day. We were shoot¬ 
ing California quail on Vancouver Island. Two 
of us, G. and myself, and Ben, the spaniel. G. was 
at the bottom of a steep fern-covered bank, and I 
at the top. A bevy of sixteen quail was flushed 
behind, and flew between us. G. fired straight 
at my face. I was less than fifty yards from 
him, and a bird fell dead in line between us. I 
saw the bird crumple up, dead in the air be¬ 
tween G.’s face and mine, but not one pellet 
touched me. There was a burnt stump of a 
tree almost in the line of fire, and this had de¬ 
flected or absorbed the center of the charge 
not absorbed or deflected by the quail. There 
was a very close two-foot pattern on the stump, 
and I was thankful it was there. This was the 
nearest thing I have ever experienced, yet the 
moment before starting out G. had said how 
awfully careful he was to see just what he was 
doing, and where he shot in the brush. 
It all shows that one cannot be too careful. 
The great thing, in my opinion, that tends to 
safe shooting is to carry a gun so that, even 
if it goes off accidentally it can kill nothing but 
that which it is intended to kill. But theory is 
easy; it is practice which most people find 
difficult. 
I have now arrived at an age when I very 
strongly object to looking down gun-barrels. 
If I think I am let in for a day’s shooting with 
duffers or men who obviously cannot handle 
their weapons safely, I go home. I have no 
use for the man who shoots when he sees the 
leaves moving, and generally has to send the 
bag to the hospital. No, on these occasions I 
go home, suffering from a headache or some 
other lie. The “didn’t-know-it-was-loaded” 
lunatic, in my opinion, shotild invariably be shot 
on sight, and his remains staked out at the 
nearest cross-roads. Starlight. 
Quail in Florida. 
A CORRESPONDENT writes from Palm Beach, 
Fla., that the quail in that vicinity are abundant 
this winter, and the birds are in good condition. 
He adds that guides and guns can be hired at 
Palm Beach at reasonable prices. 
A PLEASING DESSERT 
always wins favor for the housekeeper. The 
many possibilities of Borden’s Peerless Brand 
Evaporated Milk (unsweetened) make it a boon 
to the woman who wishes to provide these 
delicacies for her family with convenience and 
economy. Dilute Peerless Milk to desired rich¬ 
ness and use same as fresh milk or cream- 
—A dv. 
