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In writing to 
for doing the work, and formulae for 
necessary solutions. 
Special chapters are given to the im- 
portant subjects of sight-fitting, in- 
cluding the mounting of telescope 
sights, to the adjusting of trigger pulls, 
to shotgun repairs, to revolvers and 
pistols, and to field and emergency re- 
pairs. Technical data everyone needs, 
of course, is included in the appendix, 
such as barrel dimensions of most cali- 
bers, directions for dismounting popu- 
lar actions, metal fouling removal and 
the like. There is a valuable list of the 
manufacturers of guns and shooting 
accessories of the United States and 
England. 
Whether you ljke to do things with 
your own hands, or like to understand 
and be able to insist upon receiving 
correct work from factories and shops, 
the book is indispensable. It will help 
every intelligent rifleman and sports- 
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that add so much to the pleasure and 
efficiency obtained from a gun. 
Gunsmithing has been considered be- 
yond the personal skill of the great 
majority of shooters, but now comes 
Major Whelen with the proof in this 
book that guncraft is not a peculiar 
gift from the gods to specially favored 
individuals, nor does it require a long 
apprenticeship. Instead, any gun lover 
willing to take pains can make for 
himself the refinements so much to be 
desired. 
(Published by the National 
Association.) 
Rifle 
Trying Out a Rooster’s 
Regret 
(Continued from page 493) 
I tried another cast and my tech- 
nique was evidently fairly satisfactory, 
for Sammy grinned approvingly. Once 
more I cast, this time into the dark 
water over near the abutment. 
“Hello! Gettin’ so tired haulin’ out 
salmon that you have to have Indian 
Sammy help you?” 
I looked around. Pete was approach- 
ing gingerly across the treacherous 
stringer with basket in hand. 
E have all experienced the sensa- 
tion of sitting in a railway coach 
and being suddenly startled by an ex- 
press going in the opposite direction, 
an exceedingly jarring experience to 
anyone and an experience that one 
never seems to get used to. Well, some- 
thing of the kind happened just as I 
looked around—and I nearly hopped off 
the pier. 
“Whssh! B-zz! Zee-e!” My reel 
screamed out a siren signal of distress. 
The water of the pool was all silver 
and foam. 
Out he came on the opposite side of 
Advertisers mention Forest and Stream. 
Tt will identify you. 
















































the pool—a two-foot silver bow. Then 
it seemed as though he had scarcely 
touched the water before he was out 
on my side of the pool. Then like an 
hydroplane gone amuck he started be- 
fore I could get back the slack, changed — 
his mind and broke water twice in 
such close succession that he seemed to 
my imagination to make both leaps at 
the same time (such is the way of the 
winny)—the last leap close up to the 
pier, and as he came down with a 
splash he landed on the line. 
Pete yelled, “Keep the tip up and get 
in your slack!” 
As I brought the tip of my rod up 
the line dangled limply down. 
“Keep areelin’ in! Hurry! 
You never can tell!” 
Hurry! 
I followed the suggestion and just 
as I was thinking that the line had 
drifted downstream it suddenly be- 
came taught and asI gave it a little tug 
there came a steady, slow, heavy pull 
and I judged that the fish was about 
thirty yards below the pier and lying 
deep. 
“He’s sulkin’ now, but you want to 
look out for him ’cause he’ll be off like 
a shot when he starts!” was the com-_ 
ment, 
A Ses I tried the strength of the 
tackle as far as I dared. I feared 
that I was afoul of something and was 
just bringing my strength to bear on 
the line when I felt a series of tugs. 
“Bring the tip up!” But I had al 
ready had it up, and now he seemed to 
settle right back on his haunches, and 
in my mind’s eye it seemed to me that 
he was savagely shaking his head lke 
a bull-dog at the end of a rope. 
“Give ’im the butt!”’ 
of ironwood could stand for, but back 
back—back he settled, my rod givin 
voice to ominous creaks. Then I tried 
persuasion and would fain steer him up- 
stream, but too late—I might as well 
have been hooked into the Empire State 
Express. I tried in vain to work his 
head around toward me, but the winny 
simply kept on triumphantly toward 
his goal. He swung around into the 
main current that was flowing through 
the gate; when he struck this my reel 
gave forth a mournful wail and then 
stopped dead. I made tension and felt 
the line vibrating, and when I sounded 
it with a straight rod I realized that I 
was beaten. 4 
“Well, you’d better have a sandwich 
and a cup of coffee now—and then you'll 
feel better! It’s breezin’ up a bit and 
by that time the pool will be rested 
and then you can tickle ’em again with 
the Rooster’s Regret!” 
I did—and I played the next three 
“winnies” that morning according to 
Hoyle. 
~ 
5 
