Can I Get My Regular 
Shells with Cork-Tex Wads? 
Every informed shooter is already 
interested in Cork-Tex, the new wad 
endorsed by science. Many have 
tried out this better wad in shells 
of standard make, while others load 
their own shells with Cork-Tex 
Wads. 
Cork-Tex Wads represent a new 
departure in ballistic science. We 
hope that every hunter and trap- 
shooter can soon get his favorite shell 
loaded with this better wad. 
To try the Cork-Texed ammunition 
is to appreciate the difference at 
once; in long-keeping quality, in 
greater accuracy without loss of 
velocity, in absolute safety to the 
shooter’s eyes. 
Send for our free booklet, “Shell 
Certainty Through Ballistic Sci¬ 
ence.” It explains in detail why the 
Cork-Texed Shells give better re¬ 
sults. 
If you load by hand, ask us also for 
free samples of Cork-Tex Wads. 
Ask your dealer for the Cork-Texed 
ammunition. 
Bond Manufacturing Corporation 
513 Monroe St. Wilmington, Delaware 
Note: "We make the “Cork* 
Tex” wads for shell manu¬ 
facturers. We do not manu¬ 
facture shells — but factory 
loaded shells are available. 
If your dealer is not in posi¬ 
tion to supply you, send us 
his name and we will advise 
him how he may be sup¬ 
plied with “Cork-Tex” 
wadded shells. 
fXZ 
a 
CORK 
^ihe New WAD 
''Endowed by SCIENCE 
That night when the moon rose I in¬ 
structed them to proceed with the hunt 
as usual while I concealed myself near 
the chosen tree in the hope that the 
animal would again select it when it had 
become tired of running before the 
hounds. I had been there some time 
when I heard the baying of the dogs in 
the distance below me. This told me 
that the trail had again been picked up. 
The pack came slowly in my direction 
and I expected to see the ’coon appear 
at any minute. But the hounds swerved 
when a short distance away and passed 
me on the opposite side of the stream, 
soon to be followed by the boys. I re¬ 
tained my position, believing that the 
animal would return by a circuitous 
route and let the boys continue the chase. 
When they had gone for nearly a mile 
the dogs barked, treed, and hurrying up 
to them, I found that the animal had 
escaped in the same manner as before. 
Two other nights in succession I lay at 
my post without success. Both times 
the ’coon had been easily started but 
had taken to trees far from where I was 
stationed. 
By the fourth night the boys were not 
very eager for the chase but as I had 
decided to unravel the mystery if pos¬ 
sible, I stimulated them a little by pass¬ 
ing a dollar bill to each hunter. Again 
I hastened to the tree where I stationed 
myself as before. I had not waited long 
until the bellowing of the hounds told 
me that the “sly-one” was again on the 
move. Leaving the stream the dogs 
spent almost an hour circling through 
the hilly country when their notes be¬ 
came clearer and I knew that they were 
coming in my direction. When they 
were, as I judged, about one-half mile 
distant, I was thrilled by the sound of 
ripping bark on the base of the tree that 
I had spent so many hours guarding. 
Keeping my eyes in that direction I soon 
saw a very large ’coon in the upper 
crotch of the tree. Almost immediately 
he crept out upon a large limb and 
stopping about twelve feet from the 
body of the tree, went through a series 
of antics. Patting and clawing the 
limb with his front paws he advanced 
a few inches and repeated the per¬ 
formance with his hind feet, then, turn¬ 
ing crosswise with the limb and select¬ 
ing an opening through the branches he 
leaped, striking the ground with a thud. 
Seemingly none the worse for his fall, 
he trotted away and disappeared among 
the shadows of the heavier timber near 
me. The dogs soon came up to be fol¬ 
lowed almost immediately by the boys 
who, knowing that the ’coon \vould re¬ 
turn to the heavy timber sooner or later 
had continued along the stream. Tell¬ 
ing the boys that the sly old fellow could 
not escape this time we called the dogs 
to the spot where he had hit the ground. 
You can imagine our astonishment when 
the hounds refused to pick up the trail 
and seemed completely baffled. Leading 
them to the spot where I had seen the 
animal enter the underbrush we had no 
better success. Holding a council we 
decided that the animal had some mys¬ 
terious powers so returned home in dis¬ 
gust. 
Feeling rather ashamed of myself for 
not being able to hold the confidence that 
the boys had placed in me I slipped away 
and to bed. Again I lay awake for a 
while trying to unravel the secret of 
the wily animal. My mind kept return¬ 
ing to the antics that the 'coon had gone 
through when on the limb before jump¬ 
ing to the ground. I decided that if 
possible I would find the cause of his 
strange actions. With this thought on 
my mind I returned alone to the tree 
the next day and scaling the trunk, 
climbed out upon the limb to the spot 
where the ’coon had performed the night 
before. There, smeared over a space 
some six inches across, was a liberal 
supply of that gum-like substance which 
is formed by the hardening of sap as it 
flows from a wound in the bark of a 
cherry-tree. I was completely dumb¬ 
founded as the facts began to dawn upon 
me. Certainly this animal was of al¬ 
most human intelligence. During the 
early part of the season the sly old fel¬ 
low had searched out the trees which 
contained a supply of this substance. 
Later when chased by the hunters, he 
would choose one of these trees and 
after thoroughly covering his feet with 
the gum, would jump to the ground. Of 
course, this substance would immedi¬ 
ately become clogged with the fallen 
leaves and the animal would trot away 
on padded feet without leaving a scented 
trail for the dogs to follow. Thinking 
that it would be a shame to destroy such 
a clever animal, I kept the secret and 
sacrificing my reputation in that section 
as an authority on outdoor subjects, I 
immediately left town. 
David Pugh, 
Lawrence, Kansas. 
TROUT AND THEIR THRILLS 
Dear Forest and Stream : 
'"THERE is no greater opportunity for 
pleasure offered any man than when 
he packs his kit, slings it across his 
shoulder and sets out fishing. In spite 
of the good-natured gibs at those es¬ 
caped fish which are consequently the 
“Big” ones, the sport continues each 
year; not only continues but gains new 
enthusiasts who firmly believe that fish¬ 
ing is not “a pole and a string with a 
worm on one end and a fool on the 
other.” There is something ennobling 
about the sport; a man cannot match his 
wits cleanly all day against those 
speckled inhabitants of the mountain 
brooks without benefit. The tonic of 
God’s pure air invades his real being. 
Tramping across unfrequented fields 
leads his mind to romantic adventurings. 
Far fetched, you say? Perhaps; but the 
fact remains that the genuine fisherman 
would relinquish worlds for a pipe be¬ 
tween his teeth and the slap of a fly 
skipping the ripples. 
His solace is indissolubly interwoven 
with the charm of woods and streams; 
perhaps angling itself is only secondary. 
But whatever pursuit can render hun¬ 
dreds of men as oblivious of rain or 
shine as fishing, must certainly be cap¬ 
able of producing some interesting side¬ 
lights on life. 
The country exists only for fishing in 
Page 190 
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