A TRUE STORY OF AN AUTOMATIC
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A TRUE STORY OF AN AUTOMATIC

A TRUE STORY OF AN AUTOMATIC




      

A TRUE STORY OF AN AUTOMATIC




As I strolled down the street one day, I saw a new 30-30 Remington automatic in the window of a gun store, and as that has always been my ideal gun I just naturally had to step ' in and give it the once over. I looked at it, turned it end for end, looked down the sights, and finally came to the conclusion that a deer just could not get away from me if I could -only take it with me on my next hunting trip.

The clerk said fifty big bucks, but I told him the law only allowed me to kill three in any one year but if he would wait long enough I could get him the fifty. He said, "I mean fifty dollars." Now I was a little short on that part of life so was forced to go on. Each day as I passed to and fro from my work I saw the favorite gun still in the rack. I watched it for some time when low and behold one day it was missing. I made inquiries of the clerk as to who was the lucky cuss. He told me his name and straight away I went to hunt him up and made him an offer for a trade providing he did not like it. In six weeks from that time I gave him a 30-30 Winchester and some money to boot and took it home.

J got a new clip for it, new sights, and felt fully prepared to knock them down as fast as they got up. Each night I had to get that gun down and look it over, work the safety, and get acquainted with it. Well, at last the hunting season opened. My best hunting partner and I took a small company outfit and hit for the hills for a three-day hunt. We had not reached the camping place before we saw a nice buck and I got two shots at him with full confidence that we would have venison for supper. My partner said later that he thought it would be the first one, but he thinks different now. I didn't get a hair. In due time we reached the camp ground and left our camping outfit. We kept on climbing to look for game, as we had no time to lose.

I saw three more deer and the first shot brought one down. The second, third, and fourth shots went some place but not the place where I wanted them. This gave me the opportunity to try the clip for quick loading. I managed to find it, but in my haste it would not go into the right place. In the meantime, I saw the one I knocked down had gotten up and was making way with the other two. This gave me the buck fever right, and those shells went every place but in the magazine and some are still in the woods where they fell.

I managed to get three in the gun and turned them loose just as my partner got there. He asked how many I had and I had to tell him only one. You should have seen the expression on my face when the one I had turned out to be a red chunk and my friend says, "Some gun, ha! ha!"

The next morning my partner's chance came and the first shot from his 30 Winchester got a nice spike buck. By this time I was ready to go home. We were preparing to start home when who should come along but a nice big black bear and as I grabbed my gun stopped within thirty-five yards of us. I let one of those loose that goes just as they please and the other four faster than one can count, but Mr. Bear just started for parts unknown.

It was the same old story. I had five bullets scattered all over and the bear still going. It so happened that at noon I was sitting on a log when I saw a deer about two hundred yards from me. I turned my machine gun loose once more after taking a good rest over my knee. At the first shot the deer started towards me and at every opportunity I would pull the trigger and kept it up until the poor thing was within sixty yards of me. Then I happened to get one of those shells that behaves as you want it to and we had one more to bring in.

Now that gun was all O. K., the ammunition was good, I was in good shape. What was the matter? It is the man behind the gun. I could not handle it, so I gave it away and wishing the party no ill luck.

I bought a 30-30 Stevens high power and with it in six years I have lost but one deer and it was the best shot I ever had. Well, as it has been eight years since I wrote to the H-T-T, which was contrary to this letter in regard to the automatic. I wish all automatic users the best of success and hoping that no one has the same experience I have had coupled up with buck fever and one of those guns that you have to run after every time you shoot it.

30-30 Shamrock. Oregon.

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