996 
[Dec. 19, 1908. 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
255 UNFINISHED! 
The above remarkable record was made by 
Joe Kautzky. of Fort Dodge, la. 
AN AMATEUR. 
at Jewell, la., November 27 and 28 
Mr. Kautzky also won the Smith Cup with a score of 
50 Straight from 18 Yards 
and shot through the entire second day’s program 
Without a Miss! 
In making the above record Mr. Kautzky used 
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TEACHING BUSTER BROWN HOW TO 
REST.—I. 
Continued from page 970. 
seeing nothing to warrant such conclusions, he 
ventured to inquire what the joke was. 
“Why, my dear friend,” he said, when, after 
explanations, the significance of the prepara¬ 
tions I had made dawned upon him; “don’t you 
know that I can’t stand any such racket as you 
propose? I’d catch my death of cold the very 
first night. Now, with all due respect to your 
kindly-meant arrahgements, my plan is to stop 
at some quiet country hotel and make daily 
trips to the forests for game.” 
“Did you ever try camping out?” I asked. 
“No, for I’ve never had the constitution that 
would warrant such a strenuous experience.” 
“Now, Buster, let me impress upon you one 
incontrovertible fact,” I retorted in my most 
convincing tone; “it requires an infinitely 
stronger constitution—not to speak of the 
moral and physical courage involved—to put up 
at one of the sort of hotels you suggest than 
to camp for a week at the place and in the 
manner that I shall provide. What are you 
going for?” 
“To hunt,” surprised that I should question. 
“That was just my idea of your purpose; and 
you would go about it in the same serious, 
matter-of-fact way that characterizes your daily 
business, and you would return as tired and 
worn out as though you had been engineering 
deals. You have left preparatory matters in 
my hands; now I propose further that you per¬ 
mit me to manage the whole trip. I will specifi¬ 
cally guarantee that you suffer no physical in¬ 
convenience nor contract any colds through fol¬ 
lowing mv instructions, and that you will re¬ 
turn well and hearty, a thoroughly reconstructed 
man,” and I waxed eloquent in my earnestness. 
It had the effect, however, of impressing 
Buster and, after a few weak objections, he 
consented to place himself entirely in my hands, 
as a sort of “vacation physician in ordinary.” 
The following Tuesday morning, Oct. 14, 
found Buster and me, with all our traps, just as 
we had been dumped from a heavy lumber wagon 
a few minutes previously, upon a broad terrace 
on a heavily wooded hillside, deep in the fast¬ 
nesses of the Derry Woods, in the northwestern 
corner of New Haven county, Connecticut. 
The hour was nine forty-five. We had spent 
the previous night at a hotel, one of the sort 
that Buster had proposed as a rendezvous, and 
I am quite certain the experience of that one 
night contributed in no small degree to the sur¬ 
prising degree of satisfaction that he manifested 
as we stood viewing the site of our camp. It 
was one of those wonderful autumn days 
peculiar to New England, when the brilliantly- 
tinted foliage hung motionless; when the subtle 
odor of the ripe pokeberry and wild cherry 
mingled with the leafy-wood flavor of the 
forest; when the call of the jay and the sharp 
chatter of the chipmunk, as he nervously kinked 
his tail from his perch on yonder hummock, 
were the only sounds to break the silence; and 
the sun rays vibrated through a soft yellow 
haze. 
Buster stood for fully five minutes contem¬ 
plating the wondrous scene, then, taking in a 
great mouthful of the ozone-impregnated ether, 
he exclaimed: “I declare I feel ten years 
younger than when I got up this morning.” 
The spot was not unknown to me; I had come; 
across it years before when on a hunting trip 
with one who has long since crossed the great 
divide, and its feasibility as an ideal camping 
spot impressed itself upon me. It was a natural 
terrace, two by four rods in extent, half way up 
