Ite & A 
FOR EVERY HOUR (99) IN THE OPEN | 
You Can Depend On 
MARBLES 
Rifle Sights 
The selection of a gun sight is of as 
great importance as the selection of 
a gun. For quality and accuracy there 
is none better than Marble’s Sights. 
In the Marble 
range you will 
find a sight for 
every need. 













Marble’s 
Flexible 
Rear Sight 
m Does not lock up 
but is held up by 
a double - acting 
spring. Sight yields when struck and auto- 
matically flies back into position. Can’t be 
injured by shocks or blows. Always ready 
for accurate shooting. Suits all American 
rifles. Furnished with two discs with differ- 
ent apertures. Be careful to state make, 
model and caliber, and whether or not rifie 
has pistol grip stock. $4.00. 
Sheard Sights 
Guaranteed to show up 
well in the darkest timber, 
under any circumstances 
and will not “‘blur’”’. Will 
show same cclor on differ- 
ent colored objects. Made 
for nearly all sporting and 
military rifles, carbines, 
target pistols and revolv- 
ers. When ordering, send old front sight as 
sample. With medium bead, each, $1.50. 

/ COTES 


















Marble’s Standard Sights 
The lustrous convex surface of the Pope’s 
Island Gold Bead instantly reflects the 
faintestray oflight. Adds precious moments 
in the early dawn or evening twilight — the 
most favorable time for getting shots at big 
game. Made for all American rifles. Ivory 
or gold bead, 1-16, 3-32 and 14 in. $1.00 each. 





Adjustable Leaf Sight 
The leaf is held firmly in position by the 
spring of thelong flat part, when either up 
or down, and can be instantly putin either 
position. $1.25 each. 





If your dealer can’t supply you, we will 
fillyour order direct. Send for 1923 catalog 
Marble Arms & Mfg. Co. 
- 526 Delta Avenue - Gladstone, Michigan 
683 




FOR EVERY HOUR, ) IN THE “OREN =u 
es py _________ = 

In writing to 

(crouse 
Recounting a Perfect Day Arfield, 
Wherein One Bird Constituted the Bag 
By R. BAILEY 

— ,N our many trips 
||| afield after this 
most noble of birds, 
what are the hunts 
that stand out most 
conspicuously? Are 
they the days of 
record kills, a great 
deal of shooting, 
and filled game 
pockets? Does a 
successful day 
afield require concrete evidences of one’s 
skill with the weapon? I think not. 
Rather it seems to me that, as we look 
back over our past experiences, it is 
the days wherein, perhaps, only a brace, 
or even a single is taken, that stand 
out most sharply in our memories. I 
cherish the memory of no other hunt 
more than the following: 
Throughout the entire length of a 
mellow, November day, Bess and I had 
combed the surrounding countryside in 
search of the ellusive birds. But they 
had been unsually wary, and a few 
fleeting glimpses of brown bodies and 
whirring wings hurtling through the 
scarlet woods had been our sole reward. 
The day was not far spent, and the 
sun a huge orange disc, seemingly rest- 
ing on the edge of the far-off hills. I 
trudged across an open wheat field, and 
reached an old snake fence, which 
wound its erratic way through a maze 
of woodlots, meadows, and farmlands. 
Slipping the shells out of my gun, I 
perched myself on the topmost rail of 
the old fence, and prepared to witness 
the approach of night. 







In front of me, stretching down a 
gentle slope to a near-by woods, lay a 
brown stubble field. Beyond the woods, 
reaching away in a veritable riot of 
color, lay a broad expanse of marsh. 
At the extremity of the marsh, rising 
dark in the purple distance, ran a line 
of low hills. 
St aee topmost edge of the sun’s disc 
had now dropped behind the hills, 
and a great bank of clouds, transformed 
into living gold by the sun’s reflection, 
illuminated the west. A lone mallard, 
sharply silhouetted against the bril- 
liant sunset, winged its solitary way 
across the western skyline, and brought 
to my mind those immortal lines of 
Bryant: 
Advertisers mention Forest and Stream, 
It will identify you. 
“Whither, midst falling dew, 
While glow the heavens with the last 
StTEDSLOLMGa Veet 
Suddenly, the antics of Bess recalled 
me for my reveries, for her actions 
spelled birds. After ranging several 
yards across the field, she finally drew 
up to a perfect point. Replacing the 
shells in my gun, I slipped off the fence, 
and approached Bess, urging her on. 
Inch by inch she crept forward, until 
finally, with a whirr of wings and a 
flash of brown, a beautiful cock flushed 
from a few feet in front of her, and 
veered around until it reached a point 
where it made a perfect target against 
the livid sky. The crash of smokeless 
powder jarred harshly on the still air, 
and some thirty yards away the mag- 
nificent bird folded its wings and came 
to earth. 
REMAINED motionless while Bess 
trotted forward to where the bird 
lay, picked it up gently, and brought 
it back to me with pride in her eye. 
I smoothed the rumpled feathers, and 
admired their delicate pattern of brown 
and gray. Still holding the bird in my 
hand, I again looked toward the west. 
The flush of sunset was now rapidly 
fading, and long shadows were stealing 
out from the woods across the bare 
fields. A dog barked in the distance. 
The lone whistle of a quail floated 
down across, the meadows, and was 
answered far away, faint in the dis- 
tance. 

“... picked it up gently and brought it 
back to me with pride in her eye” 
Page 676 
