Chapter XXVI

The Rifle On Moving Game

 

  So vast is the difference between hitting even with the shot-gun an object at rest and an object in motion that it was many a year after the introduction of the shot-scattering system before any one attempted much to kill game when in motion. Many men are still living who can plainly remember when wing-shooting was almost an unknown art, practiced only by a few city sportsmen, while the country sportsman always waited for the rabbit or quail to stop. Even now this art is confined to those who can afford to waste plenty of ammunition and have the time and opportunity to practice. Even now it is conceded that even a moderate proficiency is no easy thing for anyone to acquire, and for a large number of people is a hard thing to acquire.

  If such be the case with a gun that covers with its missiles a space of thirty inches, how much greater must be the difficulty of doing the same thing with a gun whose missile covers only half an inch or even less! We have already seen the immense difference between the shot-gun and rifle on game at rest. And at least the same degree of difference must exist between shooting with them game in motion. Such has always been believed to be the case, almost all riflemen conceding the difficulties of using the rifle upon anything in motion; only a very few of them being able to hit even so large an object as a deer or antelope when running; and all who talked of shooting on the wing with the rifle being classed as braggarts who knew nothing at all of shooting.

  The world turned out to be wrong in its opinion of what could not be done with the shot-gun. Is it wrong in the opinion it has so long held about the capabilities of the rifle? Some advanced people think that it is.

  In the winter of 1877-78 there appeared a gentleman whose sudden bound from obscurity to worldwide fame, from comparative poverty to comparative wealth, merits attention. Probably no man ever before won such applause, such notoriety, and so much money in so short a time from any exhibition of skill. It is safe to say that with either rifle or shot-gun no man ever again will do it.

  This gentleman sprang upon the stage with a challenge that was at first received with a universal laugh of sneering contempt. Those who knew him knew, however, what he could do, and he lacked no backers in San Francisco. He at once began giving exhibitions in California, and demolished glass balls and even ten-cent pieces and bits of lead-pencil tossed in the air, and did it with an approach to certainty that silenced the laugher and turned the scoffer into an admirer.

  He made his way East and from thence to England, France, and Germany, amid a storm of applause and "gate-money," winning the hearts even of princes and dignified old emperors by the rapidity and accuracy of his shooting.

  It is not impossible that his success was partly due to the romantic story of his life as an Indian captive from childhood. This there seems no reason to doubt; and, aided by a fine physique and the tremendous power of long hair, flop-hat, buckskins, and badges, it possibly went far toward storming the susceptibilities of our foreign friends as well as the softer sex and softer members of the harder sex at home. But he certainly did such shooting as would before have been by many deemed impossible.

  From his first appearance upon the stage Dr. Carver has had an enormous amount of practice with the rifle. And this he still keeps up. Like all other "professional" shots he plays with ammunition by the barrelful where an amateur or ordinary hunter uses less than a handful. He has all the advantages of powerful strength and perfect health, is in the prime of life with perfect sight, and was undoubtedly one of the best of field-shots before he appeared in public; nearly all his life having been passed in the field. The rifle has now reached about as high a state of perfection as can be expected from it, so far as its accuracy at short range and convenience of aiming are concerned. We are therefore justified in assuming that Dr. Carver can now do with the rifle at short range about all that can ever be done with it; certainly all that can ever be done with it by any ordinary amount of practice.

  In 1878, about the time the loudest thunders of applause were rolling heavenward; when the words "marvelous," "miraculous," "wonderful," "astonishing," "witchcraft," "sorcery," "jugglery," "sleight of hand," etc. etc., echoed from half a million tongues; when Eastern editors were vying with each other in the effort to determine whether Carver's shooting were " instinctive," " intuitive," " innate," or " natural;" when Eastern reporters were filling columns with his romantic history, and telling how he could kill more birds on the wing with a bullet than most sportsmen could with shot, and then winding up with the affecting tale of how he "accidentally discovered" his wondrous God-given power in trying to bag a bluejay's tail for the pretty daughter of an Indian chief, an obscure individual in the mountains of San Diego County, California, who had never seen a glass ball, had the audacity to think that the crowd was a little too enthusiastic.

  In the columns of the Chicago Field he then took the ground that Carver's shooting was neither marvelous nor extraordinary, but simply new, and hazarded the prediction that if there were any profit in it there would in a very few months be plenty of successful imitators. Carver honored the rural impertinence with his most crushing challenge, to which the rustic succumbed at once. His prediction was, however, quickly verified. Imitators by the score arose, most of whom have excelled the best records made by Carver during his first six months of glory. And before long we began to hear of wonderful boys and even wonderful girls that hit glass balls and pennies in the air with a rifle. These prodigies are on the increase. The other day I read of two new cases in one paper, neither over ten years of age.

  During all this time it seems not to have occurred to the editorial or "scissoring" world that these wonderful boys and girls may prove two things instead of only one thing. According to them the hitting of glass balls in air by a child of ten years old proves only that the child is a wonderful performer. Is it not just possible that it may also prove that the performance is child's play?

  The almost universal opinion of Carver's shooting was that it settled the long insoluble problem of shooting on the wing with the rifle. The majority thought that the ability to do this was restricted to Carver himself. Others thought that it could be acquired by imitating his methods, especially that of keeping both eyes open while aiming.

  A few now think that the whole thing was a delusion; that the performance is a very easy one, and instead of being marvelous was simply novel; that, the novelty being now worn off, the shooting amounts to nothing for any practical purpose. But the opinion of the great majority is the other way. Thousands even, of men who use the rifle still believe and long will believe that Carver solved the question and discovered or invented the art of wing-shooting with the rifle. Already we have the "champion wing-shot with the rifle" by dozens. Already "wing-shooting with the rifle" is talked of as a thing of course. And it may be safely said that the world in general now believes and long will believe that the ability to break glass balls in air and blow nickels skyward with the rifle as Carver did carries with it of course the ability to shoot game on the wing with the rifle. And if such small things may be hit, the tripping of the heels of such a large object as a deer or antelope follows as a mere matter of course.

  It will therefore be worthwhile to analyze this shooting and see just what can and what cannot be done by it. We shall then be in a position to understand the question of shooting running deer.

  At the outset one very significant fact stares us in the face, a fact that no one yet seems to have taken the slightest notice of. That fact is this: Dr. Carver and all the imitators who have followed him have in all their public exhibitions been careful to shoot at no pigeons or other birds on the wing, to shoot at no balls tossed across the line of fire or at any angle to it, and to shoot at nothing in motion when at any distance where it would require the most ordinary amount of skill to hit the same object if at rest.

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  In order to understand clearly let us consider skill as of three degrees:

    • That skill necessary to hit a three-inch ball at rest at ten paces, offhand with open sights.

    • That skill necessary to hit at forty paces.

    • That skill necessary to hit at seventy paces.

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  The first is the very lowest skill necessary for rifle-shooting. This may be cultivated in a single day by any person male or female of over ten years old, and many a boy of eight or nine can hit balls at rest all day at that distance upon the first trial. With a little practice the ball may be hit at ten paces by almost any one without any sights upon the rifle, and with a little more practice without even raising the rifle to the shoulder. But everyone who has ever shot at game with the rifle will readily admit that this degree of skill is absolutely worthless in the field. This degree of skill is attainable by mere sense of direction aided by practice. A baseball pitcher with his ball, a teamster with his whip, a boy with the " nigger-shooter" or blow-gun can soon learn to hit such a mark nearly every time.

  The second degree of skill, or hitting a three-inch mark at forty paces, used to be very ordinary in the days of muzzle-loaders. Since the breech-loader has so generally come into fashion it has, for reasons we shall point out hereafter, become a very respectable degree of skill. This degree is absolutely necessary for anything like successful shooting on any kind of game however large or close. But it is far from being sufficient, and he who can do no better will miss in the long-run fully one half of the game he shoots at unless he confines himself to very close shots.

  The third degree, or hitting a three-inch mark at seventy yards, is about the highest skill attainable with the average breech-loader with hunting-sights and offhand. There has long been an idea that much better shooting was possible. Of course better shots may be made. But he who takes the same pains to count his misses that he does to count his hits, and takes the average of a long series of shots, will speedily conclude that to hit a three-inch mark four times out of five at seventy yards is about as well as there is any hope of doing without very fine sights.

  The first of these degrees of skill is that used in all the shooting at glass balls that Carver and his imitators do. A ball is occasionally shot at twenty yards, but the experiment is rarely repeated and is not half the time successful at the first shot. All the shooting is done inside of ten paces, generally at eight paces, and where mere sense of direction will almost suffice to hit it every time.

  The ball is therefore at a distance where almost no skill at all would be required to hit it if it were at rest. Now is it not practically at rest?

  The ball may be taken just as it hangs in air, just after it turns to descend, or even some time after beginning to fall. Anyone who has ever practiced any with a shot-gun at such marks knows that it makes little difference which way it is done so long as you continue to catch it always at that point. Just after it turns is, however, the best, the sight being taken at the lower edge. The ball, too, is always tossed to about the same height, is always at the same distance and in the same direction, and is always descending at the same rate of speed. No one who has ever handled a gun needs to be told how quickly the gun begins to return to the same place when often tossed up to it. And in the same way the rifle-sights soon begin to align themselves almost automatically with anything always in the same position. How easy this becomes with a little practice is shown by the fact that with a month's practice men who had never before handled a rifle almost equaled Carver's best scores on balls. How easy it is to do naturally is well shown by the feat of Mr. Maurice Thompson, the well-known archer. At the very first trial he broke with bow and arrow thirty-five out of fifty balls tossed in air at ten paces, shooting, too, as fast as the arrows could be placed on the string. This was indeed a feat, since it takes considerable skill to hit with an arrow a ball at ten paces even at rest. This would be fully equal to the same with the rifle at twenty-five yards; a little feat that neither Carver nor his followers have ever cared to attempt in public.

  The whole secret of the matter is this: that a body descending inside of ten paces, descending straight and always at the same speed, becomes with a little practice practically in a state of rest at any point along the line at which one accustoms one's self to shoot at it. It is practically a body always in the same position and at the same distance, and the most careless aim if only low enough will hit it. A grazing ball that would not count on a bull's-eye will also break a glass ball. The case is not very much altered where pennies are substituted. It is far easier to hit a one-inch mark at ten yards than to hit a three-inch mark at thirty yards.

  This is owing to the greater clearness of the mark and other causes we shall see hereafter, such as trajectory motion of object, etc. Still, pennies are harder to hit than balls, and with remarkable unanimity the "champion rifle wing-shots" always prefer balls to pennies, though more than twice as expensive and far more troublesome to handle. They also take care to have the pitcher a little closer, shoot at a very few of the pennies, and never attempt a long score. And the full score of those they do shoot at is generally suppressed.

  The man who first tossed up two pennies and hit both with a double shot-gun before they touched ground was considered at first a very wonderful shot. Such a one will even now raise a stare of wonder among folks who know nothing of shooting. But everyone who has ever tried it a few times will admit that it is quite an easy matter, requiring only a little practice, and that it by no means implies the ability to send two woodcock whirling right and left to earth. The ball and penny shooting with the rifle stands upon the same footing. The performance was something new. To those who knew nothing of rifle shooting it was naturally surprising. The only real wonder is that anyone knowing anything about shooting should have been deceived by it or thought there was any sleight-of-hand about it. And it no more implies the ability to kill game in motion than hitting pennies with the shot-gun does. To waste no further time on this point, let us see what Carver has done in the field with the rifle.

  He is credited with having killed at Logansport, Ind., four woodpeckers out of six at about fifty yards; all crossing shots. This would be indeed marvelous shooting. But as Carver never alluded to it himself, and never has ventured to shoot at birds in his exhibitions, we may well consider it, what it really was, pure good fortune. Success of that sort runs in streaks. I have made runs of shots with the rifle on running rabbits that I know I could not repeat in fifty trials. When Dr. Carver was getting a thousand dollars a week for pulverizing balls at the Minnesota State Fair he was invited out to shoot grouse. It was early in September, when grouse lie well to the dog, are full grown, and generally rise at less than six paces. There flies no bird that presents a fairer or much larger target. The Doctor had shot thousands before; he was not out for meat, but only for sport. He knew that killing grouse at that season with a gun is child's play. He shot sixty-five in all; and he took precious good care to do it with the shotgun. Why did he not take a rifle? Perhaps he can tell us better himself. Here is an extract from a letter of his describing a chamois-hunt in Austria on the preserves of Count Wilzek. It is from the Chicago Field of Nov. 20, 1880. Here is a record of three days' shooting, in his own language too, by the man who was being wined and dined by princes and potentates for his "marvelous," "natural," "instinctive," "intuitive" shooting. Yet the reader must not suppose this is bad shooting. It is first-class work under the circumstances. I cite it only to show the enormous difference between ball-shooting and game-shooting. Probably no living shot could excel it. But just count the misses and the shots let go for want of time to shoot. Remember, too, that Carver is the quickest of living shots with the rifle, and that if anything can be done by snap-shooting with it he can do it.

  "Monday morning found me up bright and early, dressed as a mighty hunter, armed with a Winchester rifle, model 1876, and a six-foot pole with a spike in it. All eyes turned toward me, the Yankee hunter; as I stepped forth, dressed in an English hunting-costume, my long hair carefully combed, many an expression either of contempt or admiration went up from the crowd of beaters, but all in German, so I could not understand. I learned afterward that I was looked upon as a good subject for many purposes, but 'nix good' for chamois. We started at the foot of an immense mountain and climbed toward the summit for three hours. At last we reached an impassable barrier; the Count motioned me to sit down by a little tree. I took my seat, and for the first time looked down the mountain. I came very near falling; turning my eyes toward the summit I dare not look again; everything was still as death, and thus it remained for perhaps twenty minutes, when bang! went a rifle on our right. The next instant there was a rush of stones down the sides of the mountain. The Count sang out, "Here he comes" and sure enough he came rushing down the side of the mountain like lightning. He made a great bound and stopped on the side of the mountain, but only for an instant; he cast one wild look in our direction, and jumped out of sight. He ran on our right and soon disappeared, and the next we saw of him he crossed the mountain far out of reach below us. How sorry I was not to get him; it was the first one I ever saw. We sat still for a few minutes, when directly under us, not more than ten yards, stood another chamois. I raised my gun. The Count says, 'Nix, das ist eine frau;' and so it proved, for in another instant out stepped a little kid. They stood still for nearly a minute, then ran along the side of the mountain without observing us. In chamois shooting none but the bucks are shot; there is but slight difference in the horns, but a hunter can tell a buck at a long distance. At first I could not see the slightest difference. The sound of the beaters now reached our ears, the rattle of stones above us. I looked just in time to see three young chamois bound away. Soon comes another with a kid, dreadfully frightened at the beaters. She ran within ten feet of us and stopped. She was looking behind her and did not discover us until I laughed. She was so frightened she turned around and knocked her little one over, and away she went down the mountain. We sat still for a long time until beaters reached us, without seeing any more; then we prepared to go down.

  "Bread and honey, how is that for breakfast, to climb mountains on? But once more I shouldered that old Winchester, and followed, all smiles, far in the rear. A distance of five miles, then we commenced to climb another mountain. At last I reached my position, the lowest one of all, thanks to the kindness of the Count. I watched the other shooters until out of sight, then sitting clown with a beater left to look after me, the Count taking a chance himself. He excused himself from me by saying he never had any luck; and so it proved, the females all paying him their respects, much to his disgust. I had not sat long in my position when I saw the horns of a stag through the trees directly on my right. The beater said, 'Shoot.' I was not in any hurry, I felt so sure of him; he stepped out exposing his shoulder to me. I said to myself, ' I have got you, old man,' and took a careful aim; bang! went the Winchester, away went the stag up the side of the mountain. I shot three hundred feet too high and ruined a top of a big pine; it did not take me long to get the old Winchester leveled once more. I shut my eyes, pulled and jerked until it went off; good shot, just back of the shoulder, but a downright fluke. The stag gave one bound and then came end over end down the mountain for more than two hundred yards, a grand sight for a hunter. All was still for more than half an hour, when bang! went the guns all along the line above me, and down the mountain came a fine buck chamois. He stopped two hundred yards; bang! went my gun, but still he came on; bang! bang! went the Winchester, but still he came on until he was within fifty yards. I still kept shooting; seven shots had missed. He tried to run along on the side of the mountains; this was the last chance, and I stood up and fired. Now or never; hit, by Jove ! He clung to the side of the mountain for one minute, then rolled down to the bottom. He, my first chamois, was killed. Hurrah for Carver ! We did not have long to wait until down the mountain came another; bang! went the old gun. Hit, but where? Through the haunch, by that great Yankee too. One stag and two chamois, when down came another. I turned my battery loose as soon as he hove in sight, and the chamois was so frightened that he ran within ten feet of where I was sitting. I still pumped away at him. He never stopped, although we could see four holes in him, he came so near. He followed a little path for a short distance, and quietly laid down and ' passed in his chips.' What fun I was having, to be sure! when down came another. This fellow was undoubtedly engaged on some newspaper, and was going to press; he went. The shooting for the day was over three chamois and one stag; one chamois had five bullets in him. The Count gave me the skin, and I will always keep it in remembrance of my astounding luck. To say I was proud is just what I mean. We went home, my lameness all gone.

  "The next morning, bright and early, away we went again. This time we did not have so far to climb, and were soon in position. The first objects I saw after taking my seat were seven deer; but before I could think they were gone. I had just time to get my gun in readiness when three chamois crossed in front of me, going undoubtedly on pressing business. They went. My banging at them did not even attract their attention. Dear reader, if you are ever asked the question, 'Can chamois run?' say 'yes,' for my sake; but with all their speed, they are sometimes foolish, and will stop every few jumps, and give the hunter a good opportunity to shoot. All was quiet for a few minutes, when bang ! went Dr. Cup's gun. A fine young buck stopped far up the mountain-side. I took deliberate aim, the bullet crashing through his shoulder. Almost at the same instant I heard a noise on my right; I looked, and within fifty yards was the finest stag I ever saw. Bang! bang! went the gun in quick successive shots, and the noble stag commenced rolling, end over end, down the mountain, the chamois coming down the other. This I will say is the best shot I ever made. With four shots I killed two chamois and one stag, two bullets in the stag's neck within two inches of each other. The shooting over, Dr. Cup came down, and said I ought to thank him for the stag, as he missed him twice."

  I consider it safe to say that no improvement or discovery has been made in the art of rifle-shooting on moving game; that snap-shooting with it will always be worthless beyond the very shortest distances; that no way of making a rifle can obviate the natural difficulties of shooting with it; and that the use of two eyes, though just as good as the use of only one, will not help us a particle.

  Practice at balls is, however, by no means to be despised. Practice at anything is better than no practice at all. But do not deceive yourself with the idea that hitting balls implies hitting game.

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Chapter XXVII

The Rifle On Moving Game (Continued)

 

  The great hindrances to successful shooting with the rifle at running deer and antelope are precisely the same that prevent successful wing-shooting with it. Shooting at the two first is the more easy only because of the greater size of the mark. But this size, great though it be, does not even at quite short distances permit the least carelessness in aiming. For, as we have seen, such carelessness is bad enough even when the game is at rest. The hindrances are:

 

    • The limited amount of time causes one to raise the rifle too hastily and run his eye too hastily along the sights. By which means one is almost certain to take too full a front sight and thereby overshoot, unless the rifle be held very low.

    • The fact that in three shots out of four the game is moving at some angle to the line of fire, thus requiring the aim to be taken ahead of the mark. From this flows

    • The difficulty of determining how much to allow for the motion of the game; and

    • To measure off that amount of space even if you do know how much is needed; and

    • While doing all this and firing at the point of blank space in which the game will be when the ball reaches it, to preserve the proper elevation; a matter difficult enough where there is no allowance to be made for motion. All the conditions, too, are constantly varying.

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  The best way to obviate the first difficulty is to raise the rifle slowly, or rather deliberately, running your eye along it and catching a full clear view of the sights as it comes up, concentrating your attention upon the sights instead of upon the game. When shooting a shot-gun the game is the principal object of vision. One scarcely sees even the gun-barrel, and almost never sees the sight upon it. The tendency to do the same with the rifle is very strong, and in one who is a good wing-shot with the shot-gun is at first almost irresistible. But nothing is more certain to cause a miss at any considerable distance. Suppose a man with a shot-gun can average nine rabbits out of ten shots, all running, and all pure snap-shots. Suppose the same man can fire a Winchester at the rate of two shots a second at a standing mark, shooting close enough to place nine balls out of ten in an eight-inch ring at twenty yards pure snap-shooting with the rifle. How many times would the same man hit rabbits inside of twenty yards, the rabbits all running and the rifle being fired in the same manner as at the eight-inch ring, or fired in the same manner as the shot-gun was fired to hit nine rabbits out of ten? The answer to this problem as given by actual experiment is amazing even to one who knows the vast difference between shot and a bullet at a sitting mark. I believe I understate rather than overstate it when I say he would not touch one rabbit in ten, on an average of one hundred shots or more. When at a hundred yards or over, or when at only fifty yards and running fast, the same aim that with a shot-gun would kill fifty successive quail on the wing will not suffice to even scratch one running deer out of fifty except by accident.

  The sights must therefore be seen as plainly and taken with the same degree of fineness as in a fine shot at game standing. A certain amount of time must be lost in doing this. It might better be lost while raising the rifle than at any other time. For it must be lost anyhow, and during that time the game is getting farther away. Now if you jerk the rifle hastily to the mark you will find the temptation to fire when the sight first glimmers on the mark almost irresistible; and if you do fire it will almost certainly be with too coarse or vague a sight. But if you raise the rifle deliberately, looking for the sights as it comes up and holding your eye firmly upon them, this danger will not be half so great. You will have no trouble in keeping sight of the game all this time, whereas if you make the game the first object of vision you will find it very hard to catch a clear sight. And if you toss up the rifle as you would a shot-gun, it will actually take longer to find the sight afterward than when raising it slowly and running your eye along it as it comes up. Moreover, when raising it slowly you are much more apt to raise it directly into the spot at which it is to be fired, so as to require no adjustment or shifting afterward; a thing which is the very essence of all good shooting with either shot-gun or rifle.

  In the next place, if the game is running across the line of fire even at a very acute angle the rifle should be raised ahead of the point you wish to hit. In accordance with the principle above stated (if the ball is to be fired ahead of the mark at all) it is much better to raise the rifle at once to the point at which it is to be discharged than to raise it upon some other point and then shift it. For if you raise it upon the game the temptation to fire then will be too strong; and if you raise it behind the game and attempt to shift it forward you will be tempted to fire when the sight first touches the animal's outline. In both cases you will be liable to shoot too high because you will be quite certain to be too hasty.

  The necessity of firing ahead of moving game has been so strongly disputed by some who are unquestionably good field-shots, and the principle is so essential in shooting moving game with the rifle, that it merits some attention. The question is one susceptible of positive proof by the plainest principles of philosophy; so I will omit all boasting of " experience," etc., and call upon an impartial arbiter.

  If two railroad trains were running parallel at a hundred yards apart and at the rate of thirty miles an hour, a ball fired from one at a mark upon the other would strike the mark the same as if both trains were at rest. (We are supposing, of course, that the wind will make no difference.) But if one were moving at only one mile an hour, a ball fired from that would strike the other train at a point distant from the mark aimed at just twenty-nine thirtieths of the distance the train fired at moved while the ball was passing a hundred yards.

  In other words, the ball moves sidewise with the lateral motion of the train from which it is fired at only one thirtieth of the speed it had when the train moved thirty miles an hour instead of one mile. The ball in both cases takes the diagonal of a parallelogram built upon the line of fire a hundred yards, and the line of space the train from which it was fired moved while the ball was moving from train to train. The parallelogram in the second case is only one thirtieth of the width of the one in the first case.

  Suppose now the train containing the rifle were at rest, but the rifle were a hundred yards long, or long enough to follow the mark and keep its muzzle against it while the ball was passing up the barrel. The ball would in such case hit the mark although the breech of the rifle were at rest. Because in such case the ball is carried along sidewise by the constantly increasing motion of the long extended barrel. And now suppose the barrel to be only three feet long instead of three hundred feet, but following the mark with the line of sights. What will then become of the ball? If those be correct who insist that the lateral motion of the gun in following game is sufficient, the ball will follow the same sidewise course as if it were still acted upon by the constantly increasing lateral swing of the three-hundred-foot barrel. In other words, if one half of the long barrel were slit off for two hundred and ninety-seven feet on the side opposite the direction the mark is moving, so that the ball can escape from the side of the barrel at any point beyond three feet from the breech, the ball will nevertheless decline to escape and hug the other half of the barrel as closely as it did when the barrel was whole. There is no possible escape from this conclusion. The ball must take the same course in the half-open barrel that it does in the whole one, or it cannot get far enough to one side to reach the mark. Whether the ball will leave the opening or not is an experiment any one can easily try by whirling a ball up a tin tube slit off in the same way as the barrel.

 

  For those who like more imposing philosophy I add the following principles, which are as firmly established as the law of gravity:

    • Nobody can describe a curve unless constantly acted upon by two forces one of which must be a constantly increasing force.

    • Whenever a ball is released from the increasing force which curves its course, its path will at once change to a straight line.

    • This line will be a tangent to the curve that constituted the path of the ball before its release from the force that curved its course.

    • No tangent to a curve can reach the same place that the curve itself would arrive at.

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  When a gun-barrel is held at the shoulder and moved sidewise in following crossing game the muzzle moves much faster than the breech. And the ball is therefore subjected to a constantly increasing force from one side. This increasing force combining with the forward motion imparted by the powder must produce a curve, although it is apparently a straight line. If any one doubts this let him take a string, double it and loop it over a nail on a board, then holding the two ends together and moving them sidewise like the pendulum of a clock run a lead-pencil down between the strings. He will find that, though the strings be straight and the path of the pencil apparently a straight line, it is actually a curve. Now how can this curve continue after the sidewise action of the barrel ceases? And how can the ball reach the game unless that curve does continue? There is no escape from it; the lateral-motion advocates have solved the problem of shooting around the corner without even bending the gun-barrel; we have only to whirl the gun fast enough and around goes the ball; a little faster and it will turn the next corner; faster yet and it will almost return to " plague the inventor" in the rear.

  You can now calculate for yourself about how far a deer running at a hundred yards will leave behind him a ball fired at a certain speed. The swing of the barrel does of course carry the ball sidewise, but it is like the motion of the train going at one mile an hour. It is only about one thirtieth or one twentieth of what is necessary. All calculations by figures of the amount of margin to be allowed are, however, of little use in the field. A wheel rolled down a hill where you can see the balls strike, and swallows skimming along water, etc., make good targets from which to get some idea of the distance necessary to hold ahead of moving game. Those who deny the necessity of holding ahead are pleased to stigmatize as theorists those who prefer an appeal to philosophy instead of talking about their own experience and sneering at the experience of all others. To those "practical men" who feel hard toward "theorists" the rolling-wheel target and the swallow on water are most respectfully recommended.

  There is, however, another element that prevents the ball's reaching the mark in time. From the instant your brain decides to pull the trigger until the ball escapes the rifle some time is lost. The passage of nerve-force from the brain to the finger, over four feet; the fall of the hammer; the explosion of cap; the evolution of the gas from the powder, all these take time. It is indeed but a short time, but it is time nevertheless. Take a muzzle-loading rifle with globe-sights and set trigger, load with a round ball and so small a charge that you can see every ball strike. Then let someone with a long string pull a small mark across in front of you at different distances and rates of speed. You will be surprised to find at how short a distance you will shoot behind it if you hold the sights directly on it.

  The effect of these two causes combined is much greater than one would suppose who has never shot at running game on ground where missing balls can be seen to strike. It is so great that there seems to be no point, however close, at which holding ahead of crossing game can be entirely neglected if the game is moving fast. And there seems to be no motion, however slow, which will permit such neglect if the animal be at any considerable distance. I do not mean that holding ahead is always necessary to insure hitting the animal, but it is almost always necessary if you wish to hit the animal in the best place. Nor is it always necessary to hold the sights clear of the animal's outline, but only ahead of the point you wish to strike. But when the game is at any distance or speed even the whole body will be missed, and this even when the course of the animal is only quartering, unless the aim be taken ahead. Hence holding ahead is always safe; is generally expedient; is often indispensable to success.

  There is, however, another way by which the same result may be attained. If the rifle be raised behind the game, whirled rapidly past it, and fired as it is passing, the muzzle of the rifle may move sidewise as much as an inch or two from the time your brain gives the order to pull the trigger which to you appears to be the actual time of firing, though it is not until the escape of the ball. If one fifteenth of a second a space imperceptible to the senses were lost in this way and the motion of your gun-barrel were at the rate of thirty inches a second, it would move two inches sidewise without your knowing it at all. Now an inch at the gun-muzzle may equal three or four feet where the game is. Consequently at the time the ball gets its final direction from the muzzle the line of the sights may be several feet ahead of the game without your suspecting it and while you firmly believe you held on the body.

  This is a very effective way of using the shot-gun, especially on birds curling backward on either side of you. This, with the fact that the scattering of shot often renders holding ahead unnecessary at short distances, accounts for the reasoning of many who insist that holding on moving game is sufficient “if the gun be kept moving."

 

  But this is a bad method for shooting running deer, because:

    • It is just as necessary to regulate the speed with which the line of sight overtakes the animal and to fire at the right time as it is to select the proper distance to hold ahead; and it is quite as hard to do so.

    • In doing so you cannot retain so well as by the other method that clear and perfect view of the sights that is indispensable to avoid overshooting.

    • And, worst of all, you cannot in this way allow so well for the rise and fall of the deer and the intervention of trees, etc., in the path of your bullet.

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  A running antelope is a gently gliding movement, soft, swift, and spirituelle. But little allowance need ever be made for its up-and-down motion, and often none at all is needful. But a running deer is generally a bounding deer, often a bouncing deer. The mule-deer when running generally throws himself aloft at least two feet, and often three feet or more, at every blow of his springy legs upon the ground. The Virginia or white-tailed deer runs indeed with a graceful canter, but still rises fully the width of his body at every spring. And here arises the great source of misses on deer running straight away. If the deer is at any distance over thirty or forty yards, allowance must be made for this motion. But the tendency is to hold the sights upon the body and fire when it shows the most conspicuously; to wit, when it is in the air. The consequence is that the ball whizzes through the space the deer has just left in its descent. Sometimes, however, one will fire when the deer is on the ground, in which case the ball gets there as the deer is rising, and either misses it entirely or hits a leg.

  The ball should be fired at the point of space the deer will occupy when the ball reaches him. This will always involve some guesswork, because it is impossible always to calculate the right distance to fire ahead, and it is also impossible to hit with certainty a blank point of space, even if you do know its exact distance from the mark. Try shooting a yard to one side of a bull's-eye at a hundred yards on clean snow, and see what kind of a score you will make as compared with what you could make at the mark, and you will at once see another reason why wing-shooting with the rifle will always be quite a puzzle.

 

  The best point at which to fire is the point at which the deer will reach the ground in his descent. And this can be calculated with much more precision than would at first be supposed possible, although it certainly involves much guesswork. The way it can be done most successfully I believe to be the following:

 

    • Raise the rifle ahead of the game, remembering it is a rifle and not a shot-gun.

    • Raise it deliberately, getting the same fine clear view of the sights that you would take at a deer standing at a hundred yards; or if you cannot do that, then hold low.

    • Keeping your eye on the sights, carry the rifle along ahead of the deer until you catch the motion of the body enough to see where it will be when the hoofs touch ground.

    • Fire at that point, but fire when the deer is in the air,

 

  The great point is not to be in haste. Be not at all be alarmed by the fact that the deer is getting farther off. Your chances of hitting at a hundred yards with a well calculated and directed shot are better than the chances of hitting with three or four careless ones at fifty yards. Place no dependence on speed of fire. Even from a repeater, fire every shot as though it were a single muzzle-loader. Speed of fire is a splendid servant but a wretched master.

  Of course there will be times when a pure snap-shot is necessary. At very short distances snap-shots will of course often hit. But never take one even at a short distance unless another bound or two will take the deer out of sight.

  When in timber you may be edified by the whack of your bullet into a tree-trunk. Watching for an open place in timber is quite as essential as any other part of the operation of shooting running deer. And this can be done better if the rifle be raised ahead in the first instance.

  It seems to be supposed by some that shooting moving game is much easier if both eyes be kept open.

  If you will experiment with your finger raised in line with some object you will find, by opening and shutting each eye alternately, that only one eye is used in thus aligning your finger. This will generally be the right one. But you will find by further experiment that you can soon train the left one to do the same thing. And you will find the proof conclusive that the brain can attend to the report or nerve of one eye as well as the report of both. It can concentrate its attention upon the picture produced upon the retina of one eye alone and be quite blind to the picture upon the retina of the other.

  This it will readily do in case of the eye we are most accustomed to use, but it can be trained to do the same thing with the other. The consequence may be that when the gun is raised the eye that is in line with the sights may receive the most attention from the brain, and the other one may be pretty much ignored. If you will fire a rifle alternately from each shoulder a few times, sighting always with both eyes open, you will be apt to conclude that such is the case, and that binocular or two-eyed shooting is a delusion. Such, I think, is the case after a thorough trial of it. It is just as good as one-eyed shooting, but no better, and nothing can be accomplished by it with the rifle that cannot be done with one eye. For shot-gun shooting it has a few slight advantages, but for the rifle it has none; and I cannot, on crossing shots, estimate so well the distance to hold ahead of game as when using one eye. Sufficient practice would probably make two eyes just as good for this purpose as one eye.

  There are some other rules given by many good hunters for shooting a running deer, two of which are maintained by so respectable a number of good shots as to be worthy of notice. They are in fact the same as I have given, but owing to bad observation and carelessness of language are so mangled in sense and distorted in expression as to be misleading.

  The first is, " Hold the rifle ahead of the deer, and, when you see him through the sights, pull."

  This would of course do for a short distance, though even there it would probably place the ball back of the center of the body; but for any considerable distance it will not do. A swinging target with a blind so arranged that you can only see the bull's-eye when it passes an opening in the blind will soon dispel this illusion. But the best refutation lies in the rule itself. This is holding on the mark and not ahead of it. Why, then, resort to such a bungling way when it is so much easier to raise the sights directly upon the deer? Who would think of shooting at a bird in such a way? The fact is that those who shoot in this way pull the trigger before the animal comes into the line of the sights. A little practice at the swinging target and blind will show you that you must shoot before. But you will at once see how it can easily appear otherwise to a careless observer.

  The other rule is, "Hold on the shoulder low down." This will of course do if the deer is close and is descending. This rule undoubtedly originated, as did the last one, among hunters in the woods only. No one who ever shot much in the open would so express it. But the fact here probably is that, as in the other case, the trigger is pulled a trifle quicker than the shooter thinks it is.

  If a deer is trotting or running very low you may disregard the up-and-down motion, though it is better to allow for it when you can. A deer even on a trot often rises considerably. A deer at full speed generally hugs the ground like a hare. In such case the up-and-down motion must be disregarded. After we have examined the question of the flight of bullets, long-range shooting, etc., you will understand the monstrous nonsense of talking about shooting deer on the run at two hundred and fifty and three hundred yards as a matter of course. It is of very little use to shoot beyond a hundred and fifty yards; and there is no man who, taking all shots, can hit a deer running at that distance more than once in three shots, and it is doubtful if anyone can do that. All the talk to the contrary is based upon guessed instead of measured distance.

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