Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-02-06
"The Trapper,s Last Shot,

He was probably christened James,
but is always Jim now, and, along with
the greater part of his Christian name,
he has almost entirely lost his surname.
If he had been few shades lighter, he
might have been "ColOred Jm," but,
black being the absorption Of all color,
this name would not tit him. So he is
known, wherever known at all as &c Mig
ger JIM" He is an expert trapper and
fisherman, but, rather singularly, con-
sidering these gifts, poor marksman.
For years he lugged about or carried in
his boat an ancient ffint-lock Queens
arm, SO deadly in its action that it would
kill pickerel with only a charge Of pow
der, so Jim said yet he rarely brought
home any spoils of field or flood but such
as were gained by trap or hook. Once,
however, he made very telling shot.
It was on an October morning, and he
was padding his light trapping skiff up
the channel of Wonakakatuk as silently
as any Indian could, when, as he round
ed bend, ne saw through the tall
stalks Of the wild rice at least dozen
ducks sitting among the lily pads in
the edge Of the channel, not six
rods from him. Here was his
long-sought opportunity, and no sooner
old he descry them them than a back
ward stroke of his paddle stopped the
Roadway Of the craft just before she
poked her sharp nose in sight of the un-
suspecting fowl. Then he laid the
paddle il the boat without the slightest
noise, and as silently lifted from her
resting-place bis old gun whose true in
wardness at that moment consisted of
all the powder in her owners possession
and handful OF BIB shot, both wadded
with a half-pound or so of waspnest. He
cautiously thrust her muzzle through
the rice stalks, cooked her without
tell-tale click of the ponderous lock, set
the breech-plate firmly against his
shoulder, laid his cheek to the stock,
took such long and deliberate aim thata
spider, setting his snare among the
rushes, made fast an end of his web to
the rusty barrel before Jim, shutting
both eyes, set his teeth, and with a
sturdy pull unhitched. There was a
dazzling fash in the pan as if kettleful
of lard had caught fire, and then the
noble weapon belched forth horizontal
column of fame and smoke. kicked Jim
and his skiff half the boats length
astern, and gave roar that went bel
lowing down the creek, across the lake.
and was tossed back and forth from Split
Rock mountain to Shellhouse for five
minutes before it lost its voice. When
Jim got his eyes open and his wits gath
cred, he peered through the eddying
smoke and saw-not feather raised. nor
one wounded duck futtering its last, but
some riding unconcernedly with their
heads knocked off and some keel up in q
quarter-acre of fine splinters. Then up
rose two Boston men from among the
rushes, and the fire and smoke and up
roar and vicious recon of Jim's gun were
as nothing to the walls of wrath which
they poured out upon his curly, devoted
head. Never was such padding done
on these waters as Jim did till he put
half mile of Wonakakatuk's channel,
seething with his rapid strokes, between
himself and the scene of bloodless
slaughter. Then he showed his boat
into the rushes and skulked ashore.
Next day he offered his gun for sale,
giving as reason that she burned so
much powder no poor man could afford
to keep her. He effected sale at 81. so,
and has done no duck-shooting since.
He says, with emphatic shakes of the
head, "Any man that'l try to fool
ducks with them wooden images II steal
sheep! Yes, sir, course he will ~
Forest and Stream.