Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1878-04-28
sold Reside1lter."

You coul dn't call him sportsman by
any strain on your imagination, and yet
he was by no means loafer, though he
did talk with drawl which indicated
that he didn't regard time as very val
liable commodity. He sat on the fence
as the train came up to Seigfried's bridge
with the three Easton fancy gunners
aboard, whom he was to pilot across the
country after quail. His gun having the
lock tied on with string, reposed across
his knee, and his dog, looking like the
ghost of starvation, reposed at his feet.
The Easton men came up to him.
"Do you know Abe Hertzog?"
"Y-aa-s, know him"
"Where can we find him."
OR light hyar, guess
"Are you Mr.. Hertzog?"
"Y-a-a-s! that's what I'm taxed for
anyway"
"Jimmlny!" said one of the party, sot-
to poce, "can this be the man that Cap
told us was personally acquainted with
every quail family in Allen township"
"You tellers want to go arter some
quails, eh?'
"That's what we come for. Do you
know anything about them2"
"Wa-a-l, yaas; can tell one when I
see it,"
"What kind of a gun have you got
there?''
:" Wa-a-ll, you see, mister, that guns
an old residenter; bin into our family
ever since the first old Hertzog moved
hyar. That guns rifle, mister, an she
shoots mighty quick. Handle her lit
tie careful, mister" he continued, as he
handed the old thing over for inspection
she has way Of tumblin' apart if she's
used rough like"
The old rifle had barrel about as long
as fence rail, with iron enough in it for
a young Calling gun, and bore not
larger than healthy rye straw, while
all the stock it had was absorbed in a
brass trap door leading into cellar smell
ing Of verdigris, and filled with grease
and little pieces Of rags.
"How do you kill anything with this;
knock it down2"
''Wa-all, yes! sometimes. That's the
way busted the stock thar whar the
rawhide bandage air, knockin' fellow
down what made fun Of it,"
At this point the investigator suddenly
lost interest in the gun, and the party
moved off into the country. AS they
climbed the fifteenth fence the old man
paused on the top rail and waved his
hand indefinitely over the fields before
them.
"Gents, there's quails all about hyar,
and over yonder-yass, an, thar's one on
'em, now" he drew up Old Resi- lenter
and knocked it over where 1t sat.
'sWhat! do you shoot bird on the
ground? Why, old man, that's internal
potting."
'sthat 500" inquired the old m an
humbly, as he picket up a piece of his
gun-stock that had been Jared off by the
shot.
Just then small covey of the birds
took wing, and the man who scorneG
pot.hunting blazed away with both bar
GELS of costly breech-loader and missed
Whar whar do you shoot EN-, mis-
terW inquired the old man quietly, as be
put his patch and bullet on the muzzle
of his rifle, which he held between hi!
legs while he rammed the charge home
and then as stray bird flew overhead h,
raised and dropped it. els that ar thu
way you want it done, mlster2;'
The objector said nothing, and til.
cunning proceeded; but it soon becam,
evident that the sportsmen were doins
the cunning and the old man was doing
the shooting. The lock tumbled off hi
gun occasionally, and the barrel had
loose habit of parting company with til,
stock; but the old man had pocket full
of strings, and as fast as it gave out h
1 tied it up and made ready to shoot when
ever bird showed, and he occasionally
varied the monotony of the proceeding
by coolly blazing into the bushes, where
upon his mean-looking dog would rusl
In and drag out dead rabbit.