Bismarck daily tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, Dakota [N.D.]) 1881-1916, 1903-05-18
JACK MASON'S WAGER
Ne WON II IN GREAT STYLE WITH.
OUT TURNING A HAIR" a

Ne WON II IN GREAT STYLE WITH.
OUT TURNING A HAIR" q
Unsaue Hunting Escapade Of . Fa.
NOUS OLE Time Virginia Sportsman.
Bird Shooting That Opened . Grim
OLD ScOtchman's Eyes.
From all accounts Jack Mason In his
youth was the widest rafting young
blade in the country. One of his sport
ing eacapades is a household tradition
down in old Quantico to this day, says
Alexander Hunter in Outing.
There was a large plantation in the
section owned and worked by a Scotch
man, an elderly man, who employed no
overseer, but filed the place himself.
He was the typical stern, bigoted
Scotch Covenanter as drawn by the
immortal pen Of the Wizard Of the
North. He was a fanatic in all things
and was utterly out of place among
the pleasure loving Virginia gentry. 1t
was the irrepressible antipathy of the
OaNdIIcE uuu L uIltdn-tiC IiSiuS Va Az
bristles of the boar at the approach of
the staghounds. He herded by himself,
and they left him severely alone. The
canny Scot was himself no sportsman,
nor would he allow any of the neigh
bors to fire a gun on his place.
Now it happened there was a large
ball near by, with Jack Mason in at
tendance, of course, and during the
night the young planters discussed the
chances of autumn shooting and de-
plored the failure of all their efforts to
be allowed to hunt on the Scotchman's
preserves. Jack Mason offered to bet
his favorite horse against any Of equal
value that he would shoot over that
preserve on the morrow and with the
full and free consent of the Owner He
was asked If he knew him personally
or had unknown means of winning his
favor.
He answered in the negative and
added he had never wen met the Scot
in his life. The wager was closed there
and then.
The next morning as the old Cove
nanter was walking up and down the
porch enjoying his after breakfast pipe
q strange apparition advanced up the
gravel walk and took off his three cor
nered hat and made him a sweeping
bow. The Scot winked his eyes and
looked again. He saw a slender. effem-
mate looking fellow some twenty-five
years old who seemed literally to have
stepped from the ballroom. His ruffled
shirt front was adorned with a dia-
mond, mother Of pearl buttons cleaned
on his sky blue coat. and his satin small
clothes glistened In the sunshine. A
pair Of silk stockings were gartered by
a love knot bow of blue ribbon, and his
dancing pumps were decorated by q
jeweled buckle. He carried a gun In
one hand, and two pointer dogs troOped
at his heels.
well. what do you want?" asked the
planter.
In a mincing voice the intruder asked
his gracious permission to shoot a few
birds, saying he had been dancing all
night at Warwick hall and needed a
little morning exercise.
The Scot gazed at him with the same
feeling perhaps that his stalwart noun
tain bred ancestor had at the perfumed
dainty tops Of Charles IFS court. He
was about to utter a curt and positive
refusal when his grim Scotch humor
got the better of him. He came neal
hilarious laughter as he saw that deli
cately clothed creature standing SO
clean. jaunty and nice and then pic
tured him returning from the hunt, his
costly attire in rags, his tender limbs
scratched. his morning glory all gone.
So he smiled in his beard and asked
him IL he intended to hunt Just as he
was dressed. He was answered in the
affirmative. So he gave his assent that
his unknown guest for that one day
might shoot all he pleased, and then he
started off for the low grounds to at
tend to the constructing.
A short time after his negro manager
came running up to him and said:
"Marster, there won't be q bird left
on dis here place. De mans a debbil,
and the dogs is the debbil, and the gun
is a debbil."
Dropping his work. the owner hur-
ried to the scene, and he opened his
eyes very wide indeed at what he saw
In the front of the house was a stubble
field of several hundred acres that had
been harvested in wheat the same
year. 1t was as level as a table and an
ideal feeding place for the quail. For
many years they had whistled, mated
and fed around the place all undis-
turbed until they became almost as
tame as barnyard fowls. The owner
saw the dogs stand motionless. saw the
dandy sportsman pick his way gently
where they were, saw a few birds rise
and two puffs Of smoke. followed by
a nearly simultaneous report. Two
birds dropped. then the dogs retrieved.
and the game was handed to a monde
script negro lad whom the sportsman
had picked up somewhere. who had
tied the birds to a string and wrapped
them around his body until he was
half hidden from view.
The gun vas loaded and capped in
side Of a minute. The performance was