59 ° 
FOREST AND STREAM 
[April it, 1908. 
“ We Finish in a Cloud of Dust.” 
The U. M. C. and Remington Southern Squad has 
successfully negotiated the last hurdle; barriers and 
ditches are simply a pleasant memory—the hounds have 
ceased to give tongue, and the much-coveted “brush” 
as a well-deserved compliment for even disposition and 
good nature, under the trying conditions incident to 
continuous travel, was awarded to Annie Oakley. The 
cross-country run, through the land of flowers and'per¬ 
petual sunshine, is a thing of the past. Nine States have 
been visited, exhibitions given in thirty-nine cities, 
eight thousand miles traveled, incidents and escapades 
that were annoying at the immediate time are now looked 
back upon as being really amusing. What, do you ask? 
As a “headliner” we have Mrs. Frank E. Butler, 
better known to the civilized world as Miss Annie 
Oakley. She has appeared before and delighted the 
people of seventeen different countries, was for sixteen 
years the leading attraction with “the Buffalo Bill Wild 
West” show. To know her. personally is to admire and 
respect. The only perceptible shortcoming is the fact 
that her body is scarcely large enough to contain her 
heart—generous to a fault, philanthropic to the limit, 
always looking for an opportunity to drop a little sun¬ 
shine into the lives of children, or those in trouble. An 
incident: It was in the station at Macon, Ga.; balance 
of squad were on the outside platform. We glanced 
through the window, and discovered Annie in earnest 
conversation with a woman, evidently shy as the pos¬ 
sessor of worldly goods, but with three ’ or four little 
children hanging to her skirts. Annie first presented her 
with a large bunch of violets, the gift of some admirer of 
her prowess with the scatter gun, and at once followed 
with a' substantial “piece of money.” Upon inquiry 
later, Annie informed us that the father and husband 
was “in the baggage car ahead,” was being taken to the 
former home for interment. The mother had money 
for tickets, but nothing left for food. We never would 
have known of this had we not seen the incident 
through the window. Miss Oakley is certainly a lovable 
character, and has cemented many close friendships on 
this trip. 
Frank E. Butler has the proud distinction of being the 
husband of Annie Oakley. Individuality of his own? 
Well, I guess yes. A fund of information, gleaned from • 
constant and continuous travel over the world; endowed 
with wit and repartee; a crowd will never lack a first- 
class entertainer while Frank Butler is one of the party. 
You ask for a romance? Sure, will confide one to 
you; but promise it will never become the property of 
the outside world. 
Annie Oakley’s girlhood days were spent upon a farm 
in Ohio. She became very expert in the use of fire¬ 
arms. Her skill was the talk of the neighborhood. One 
of the neighbors made a trip to Cincinnati and saw Frank 
Butler shooting at wild pigeons, at a tournament then 
being held in one of the parks. His success was such 
that he became a little “chesty,” and possibly made some 
remarks about his personal ability as a shot that jarred 
upon the ears of Annie’s neighbor. He suggested • that 
there was a shooter at Greenville, O., that “could beat 
him MO birds for $100.” As Frank was not averse to 
the “picking up of some easy money,” the match was 
made for the following Saturday. To Frank’s- inquiries 
as to the name of the party against whom he was 
matched, the admonition to “wait and you will see” was 
handed out. Arriving at Greenville, Frank went to the 
shooting grounds, where the entire village and country 
people were assembled. At this time a wagon drove 
up, which was immediately surrounded, and a general 
handshaking with a little freckle-faced, bare-footed girl, 
wearing a little Quaker sunbonnet, calico dress and a 
broad smile. It was announced that Miss Oakley was 
ready for the match. Frank was confronting his oppon¬ 
ent (the writer desires to state that the description of 
Miss Oakley was furnished by her husband). The “race 
was on.” Frank claims that his defeat was due to the 
interest which developed for Annie during the match. 
Sure she won. Beat him hands down. Right there 
Frank’s perceptive faculties became acute. Like some 
of our foreign friends blessed with a job lot of titles, 
that have been grabbing off some of our American corn- 
fed heiresses, he saw an available “meal ticket,” and at 
once proposed. After much urging, the present Mrs. 
Butler consented. Thus closes this little romance. 
Col. J. T. Anthony—a typical Southern gentleman of 
the old school, a class that are fast disappearing—cour¬ 
teous, kind, continually making friends, never recording 
an enemy, just, still aggressive, entertaining, with a 
repertoire of stories and life incidents that make him a 
welcome guest in home or crowds. We would there were 
more men of the Colonel Anthony type. 
Wm. H. Heer, “silent man from Kansas,” the “cyclone 
shot from the Cyclone State”—a man in the prime of life, 
habits exemplary; of a retiring disposition—one who 
carefully weighs each idea advanced, and wastes no con¬ 
versation upon frivolities; very strong in his likes and 
dislikes; a friendship once formed is forever cemented. 
George W. Maxwell, of Hastings, Neb. To know 
George is to admire and respect him—“honest as the 
day is long,” hews close to the line of what in his 
judgment is right, the chips may fall where they will— 
doubly respected by those who know him best, his home 
people have accorded him many positions of trust. 
Tom A. Marshall (the scribe of the Southern squad). 
If I have inadvertently stepped upon any person’s toes 
or injured their feelings, I apologize. If I have fur¬ 
nished an article that has given any of my friends a 
moment of pleasure, I am fully repaid. 
J. A. Anderson, of Richmond, Va., our advance man, 
has made all things possible for us in the line of 
travel. His work has been an uninterrupted successsion 
of successes—no errors. 
We have had as our traveling companions such clever, 
congenial men as Walter Huff and Lester German, of 
the Du Pont Powder Company; A. M. Hatcher, of the 
Dead Shot Powder Company; Guy Ward, of the Bal- 
listite Powder Company. To know, associate and affiliate 
with such men as these, is to convince one that the 
companies are wisely selecting their representatives. 
They are friend-makers, mixers, excellent shots in 
addition to fine business ability. Here’s hoping we all 
may meet again. It can’t be too soon. 
The object of this trip, Mr. A. C. Barrell (who has 
been traveling with us a few days) assures me that the 
trip was planned as an outing, and a rest cure for the 
members of the. Squad. That it was considered at the 
executive office in New York as a vacation to rejuvenate 
and improve the health of the Squad members, that they 
might more actively participate in the tournaments the 
coming season. Billy Heer “hunches” me that he can 
detect a little bunch of sarcasm and dry wit (?) in 
Barrell’s version, and I am led to believe Billy is right. 
My version is that we were sent out to renew old ac¬ 
quaintances and make new ones; to create an interest 
in trapshooting, and generally boost the game. We think 
we “have made good.” We have regretted our short 
stops in many cities—this for the reason that we would 
have been delighted to have met more of you and have 
become better acquainted with those we did meet. We 
will meet you all again. 
At Memphis we met our old friend Jeff J. Blanks, of 
Trezevant, Tenn., winner of the G. A." H. in 1907. He 
was to meet us later, but the bright face has' failed to 
appear. What has gone wrong, Jeff? You well know 
you are welcome as flowers in May with our bunch. 
Durham, N. C., a place of 30,000, was properly placed 
upon the map long years since by the tobacco industries. 
As one drives through the streets, the fact is brought to 
your mind that if the fumes of tobacco count, Durham 
might justly be called “the Mothless City.” Immense 
brick tobacco warehouses are to be seen in every direc¬ 
tion. Many cotton mills are also located here. 
In addition, this city also has the distinction of being 
the home of Mr. George L. Lyon, who is known to 
every trap shot in the United States, and recognized as 
one of the most expert amateurs that faces the traps, 
and to those who have had the good fortune to visit his 
home. . He is branded the “prince of home entertainers” 
and his good wife is a most able assistant. The at¬ 
mosphere of this house is permeated with the cordial 
welcome, the homelike spirit, the feeling of “you are 
one of us”—this to the extent that the writer was in 
the kitchen assisting the hostess with suggestions to the 
chef, as. to the menu for the next meal. Brother Lyon 
came with us from Greensboro. His automobile was 
at the station, and the Squad were wheeled to the hotel. 
The writer, in conjunction with Mr. A. C. Barrell, were 
located as guests at the Lvon home, and we certainly 
enjoyed the hospitality to the limit. In the evening, a 
dinner was pulled off in honor of the squad. Mr. Hatcher 
accompanying us. To “hazard a line of talk” about that 
dinner, it was simply the best ever. The decorations 
were in green effect, most daintily arranged—this due, 
I think, to the careful manipulations of the Misses Carr 
(sisters of Mrs. Lyon). 
The dinner was certainly up to date: the table freighted 
with “scarcities of the season.” Barrell and myself (hav¬ 
ing enjoyed a couple of meals in advance of the squad at 
this home) were really embarrassed at the distressing 
regularity with which Frank Butler returned his plate 
for additional helps. He soon reached the comatose con¬ 
dition a la boa constrictor, as he for a moment floated 
away into dreamland, forgetting that he was. not eating 
in some cafe on the European plan. He was heard to 
say, “I don’t dare put this meal in my expense account; 
it would run mv.week’s expense up until I would lose 
my job.” At this point Annie shook Frank and pre¬ 
vented him from telling us the secret of how he was 
going to work in his imaginary expense. 
The home life in the Lyon domicile is ideal, two lovely 
children, quiet, refined, cultured. When the hour for 
church, came, the thought suggested itself to me. Assisted 
by a little invitation from Mrs. Lvon, we attended, and 
I certainly enjoyed the sermon, which would have been 
even more enjoyable had it not been for a “spring crea¬ 
tion,” an exaggerated version of the “Merrv Widow,” 
combined with the “Fluffy Ruffles Flare,” properly 
topped with green pon-por.s and ribbons, which resembled 
a St. Patrick’s day parade, and would have started a 
fight in a gang of Orangemen. 
We are much for Durham and the people. Come 
North, hold hands, and have fun with us. Let us re¬ 
ciprocate. 
Petersburg, Va., a city of 30,000 population, financially 
the strongest city in the South, a railroad center, and the 
head of tide water. It is the largest peanut market in 
the world, is also extensively interested in cotton and 
tobacco. Is known as “historic Petersburg.” Many 
of the revolutionary “mixups” were pulled off in and 
about this city. Fort Henrv was built in 1645, the head¬ 
quarters of General Phillips, of the British Army is still 
standing on Old and Market streets. General Lafayette’s 
headquarters of 1781 are still standing on the north bank 
of the Appomattox River. On East Hill is the head¬ 
quarters of Cornwallis. Arnold. Tarleton and Phillips. 
Here also was the home of the Randolphs, who were 
direct descendants of Pocahontas. General Grant’s head¬ 
quarters, where he held his last interview with President 
Lincoln on April 3, 1865, is now the home of Simon 
Seward. General Lee’s headquarters are also intact. 
Here the sanguine “battle of the Crater” was fought. 
It is said more men have been killed in battle in and 
around Petersburg than the British Armv have lost in 
fhe last hundred years, including wars with Napoleon. 
A new and most energetic gun club has been organized 
here. F. W. Jones, W. Gordon McCabe. Tr., A. E. 
Slagle, Thomas Holden, Carl Davis, W. P. Poole, Walter 
Sutherland and many others that I did not have the 
pleasure of meeting personally. Here a funny incident 
occurred which I will cite. It was in the cafe dining 
room. Two young ladies who had made all present “sit 
up and take notice,” were at the same table. Hatcher 
was disposed to “make good,” and was carefully selecting 
his language and 'shooting the goo-goo eyes” across the 
board. When he placed his order he incorporated some 
“poached eggs on toast,” which the waiter neglected to 
deliver. Hatcher looked wise, a la tree full of hoot owls, 
and told the waiter to eliminate the eggs. The waiter 
returned to the kitchen. Soon loud voices and much 
dissension were head issuing from the same. The waiter 
returned, and in an apologetic way remarked to Hatcher, 
“Boss, dat fool nigger cook don’t know how to liminate 
dem eggs.” The giggle passed around the table, and 
the “hen fruit” was forgotten. The Southern microbe. 
whose bite brings about, the hundred-straight habit, bit 
Billy Heer for the sixth time at this point. He certainly 
did the Bosco act and “ate them alive.” 
Richmond, Va., the home of one Jim Anderson, our 
advance man, who “sure has got in bad” with George 
Maxwell, George claiming that Anderson was responsible 
for the wet, miserable days that we have had both in 
Petersburg and Richmond, claiming that it was Jim’s 
negligence, in placing his order for good weather far 
enough ahead with the weather clerk. I am disposed to 
agree with Maxwell, but Anderson denies so strenuously 
that we will have to accept his version. 
Here we met an old-time bunch of friends—Wiley 
Lawrence, “Bow” Lohman, W. A. Hammond, Dr. B. L. 
Hillsman, W. S. McClelland, D. J. Flippen, Dick Cole¬ 
man, Richard Johnson, William Boyle, John Harrison, 
James Rutherford, V. Hechler, George Robinson, and 
James Tignor. We shot the Deep Run Hunt Club, and it 
certainly flavored of the I. S. M. A. Southern Handicap 
held here last May. Rain was descending, and even 
Shaner’s Island stood out in bold relief. 
The Toronto, Canada, Baseball Club were out to our 
entertainment. We knew this bunch before they became 
first-class “Canucks.” Manager M. J. Kelley (“Con¬ 
genial Mike”), Billy File and Myron Grimshaw, who 
assisted the writer at one time (while sojourning at 
French Lick Springs) in “pulling the tail out of the 
tiger”; Jake Gettman, of Hastings, Neb., George Max¬ 
well’s running mate; Jimmie Cockman and “Sandow” 
Mertes, were all there and boasting, as only an “old 
plating gang of rooters” can do “when they cut the 
handcuffs off” and all get busy. They are sure clever 
Indians, and we hope to meet you again. Here’s to 
you, boys, a bumper for the 1908 pennant for Toronto. 
We also had with us in Richmond Mr. A. F. Hebard, 
as our guest; he is another “inspiration” direct from 
the New York office. He is manager of the U. M. C. 
and Remington missionaries. Brother Hebard you can 
certainly put down as a “long bet” that we are always 
glad to have you with us. Come again. 
Charlottesville, Va., a beautiful little Southern city of 
12,000 people and the home of the University of Virginia. 
Here we met William Hall, J. E. Harrison, George 
Bruffey (president of the gun club), Harry George, R. S. 
Marshall, Newman Gaw and D. R. Snow, certainly en¬ 
thusiastic sportsmen. The crowd of about 600 remained 
to the finish, although the day was cold and disagreeable. 
Annie Oakley's exhibition was roundly applauded, and 
she was made the idol of the crowd at the close. The 
Cornell University baseball team were playing here, and 
divided the crowd with us. Frank Butler is becoming so 
absent-minded that he left the park, forgetting his wife. 
She remained there an hour after he had gone, before she 
realized that Frank had gone and forgotten his meal 
ticket. 
Washington, D. C.—The cold, disagreeable weather is 
disposed to follow us to a finish. Our crowd was limited 
here to about 800 people. We shot at the Analostan Gun 
Club grounds, near the Bennings race track. We had 
present many enthusiastic sportsmen, among whom were 
“Uncle Billy” Wagner, Mike Hogan, Charles Wilson 
(president of the club), Miles Taylor, Dr. Barr and John 
Coleman. The local lights certainly shot in a most cred¬ 
itable manner. The grounds are fine, and we are cer¬ 
tainly always pleased to meet, mix and affiliate with this 
bunch of Washington shooters. It is worth a trip to the 
Capital City to hear “Uncle Billy” Wagner rehearse the 
names of the old-time shooters, many of whom have 
crossed the Great Divide; to see Mike Hogan crack that 
face of his with a smile of satisfaction, is also worth the 
price of admission. 
At this point closes our Southern tour. In addition 
the weekly letters which I have been furnishing the 
sporting papers. To the press I extend my thanks for 
their courtesy in the publication of the incidents of this 
trip. To the readers I feel especially gracious for any 
time that may have been devoted to the perusal. To the 
members of the squad, as an entirety I desire to thank 
you for the very many courtesies that you have extended 
to me as captain, and I doubly assure you that I will 
be glad to meet any or all of you at any and all times. 
We have certainly been a happy family. Little vicissi¬ 
tudes that naturally come up in travel have been passed 
over by each and every one of you as jokes. To the 
many, many sportsmen and their friends that we have 
met upon this trip, I again bid you good-bye. Should 
you ever come into a city where the writer or any mem¬ 
ber of this team are particpating in a tournament, we 
will consider it a personal affront if you don’t hunt us up 
and 'put out the “glad hand.” I trust that we can meet 
in the near future. 
Tom A. Marshall, i 
Hillside Rod and Gun Club. 
Flushing, N. Y., April 4. —The wind played havoc with 
our scores to-day and gave us some pretty swift and puz¬ 
zling birds. 
A handsome loving cup has been presented to the 
club by Mr. A. J. Nash, of the Tiffany Glass Company, 
to be shot for monthly and to become the property of the 
member who comes nearest to winning it three times 
during the year 1908. The first leg was shot to-day and 
won by Deems with 22 hits. 
Scores for the day were as follows: 
Nash cup, handicap, 25 birds: 
H. B. T. 
. 2 19 21 
II. B. T. 
. 0 91 21 
. 5 18 23 
. 3 17 20 
Peck . 
. 3 21 24 
. 5 17 22 
Keppel ... 
. 5 14 19 
Cushmay 
. 5 10 15 
Barrett ... 
. 3 17 20 
Foster .. 
. 5 14 19 
Deems .... 
. 3 22 25 
Kruser .. 
. 4 14 18 
Events: 
1 2 3 4 5 
Events: 
1 2 3 4 5 
Targets: 
15 15 25 10 25 
Targets 
15 15 25 10 25 
.. 9 9 13 5 19 
21 7 21 
Campbell . 
.. 6 10 9 4118 
Nash ... 
.... 10 10 13 6 17 
Peck . 
.. 12 12 18 9 21 
Ashmore 
... 5 10 .... 17 
Keppel 
.. 7 6 13 6 14 
Cushman 
. 7 .. 6 10 
Barrett ... 
.. 9 7 15 7 17 
Foster .. 
.... 11 10 15 5 14 
Deems .... 
.. .. 15 12 7 22 
Kruser .. 
.... 9 10 14 4 14 
H. B. 
Keppel, Sec’y* 
