up bow making. It can be done. The only thing is to go at it without
any particular hope. Then you will be surprised and pleased that you
have achieved any result at all, and will at once see where you could
do better again. To make a very fine bow is a real art and requires
much experience and many trials. But to make a serviceable bow that
will shoot and will hold up for a time is not very difficult. And it is
great fun! The first occasion on which you go afield with bow,
bowstring, arrow, quiver, bracer, and finger tips all of your own
composition, and loose the shaft and the thing not only flies well but
straight and far, you will taste a wonder and a satisfaction new to
your experience. It will probably take you some time to convince
yourself that somehow the whole outfit is not a base imitation.
From that moment you are a true archer, and you will actually look with
tolerance on anything so stiff and metallic and mechanical as a gun.
Your wife will accustom herself to shavings and scraps of feathers on
the rugs. Inspirations will come to you anent better methods, which you
will urge enthusiastically on the old timers; and the old timers will
smile upon you sweetly and sadly. They had those same inspirations
themselves in their green and salad days. Then no longer will you need
a Chapter of Encouragement. [1]
[Footnote 1: Stewart Edward White, the author and big game hunter, has
so entered into the spirit of archery, that he has become an expert
shot with the bow after a year's practice. The use of fire-arms no
longer appeals to him because it is a foregone conclusion just what
will happen when he aims at an animal. He was considered by Col.
Roosevelt to be the best shot that ever entered the African game field
with a gun.
In the use of the bow he has revived his interest in hunting, and
admits that it is a more sporting proposition. At this present writing
Stewart Edward White, Arthur Young, and I, are on our way to Tanganyika
Colony, Africa, to carry the legends of the English long bow into the
tropics. What is written on the scroll of Fate is not visible; but with
a sturdy bow, a true shaft, and a stout heart, we journey forth in
search of adventure.
S. P.]
THE UPSHOT
In ancient times when archery was practiced in open fields and shooting
at butts or clouts, men walked between their distances much as golfers
do today, and having completed their course, it was often customary to
shoot a return round over the same field. This was called the upshot,
and has descended into common parlance, just as many other phrases have
which had their origin in the use of the bow and arrow.
So we have come to the end of our story and prepare to say good-bye.
Although we have said much, and probably too much of ourselves, we have
not spoken the last word in archery. There are a few things that we
have learned of the art; others know more. And though we would praise
our pastime beyond measure, protesting that it is healthful, admirable
and full of romance, yet we cannot claim that it accomplishes all
things and is the only sport a man should pursue.
Its devotees will find ample room for differences of opinion. The shape
of a feather and the contour of a bow have been subjects for argument
since time immemorial. Nor is our art suited to all men. Few indeed
seem fitted for archery or care for it. But that rare soul who finds in
its appeal something that satisfies his desire for fair play, historic
sentiment, and the call of the open world, will be happy.
People will scoff at him for his "medieval crotchet," will think of him
as the Don Quixote of Sherwood Forest, but in their hearts they will
have a wistful envy of him; for all men feel the nobility and honorable
past of our sport. It carries with it dim memory pictures of spring
days, the green woods and the joy of youth.
It is also futile to prophesy the future of the bow and arrow. As an
implement of the chase, to us it seems to hold a place unique for
fairness. And in the further development of the wild game problem,
where apparently large game preserves and refuges will be the order of
the day, the bow is a more fitting weapon with which to slay a beast
than a gun or any more powerful agent that may be invented.
Of course, there are those who say that all hunting should cease, and
that photography and nature study alone should be directed toward wild
life. That sweet day may come, but at least no man can consistently
decry hunting who eats meat, wears furs or leather, or uses any vestige
of animal tissue; for he is party to the crime of animal murder, and
murder more brutal and ignoble than that of the chase.
And those who think the bullet is more certain and humane than the
arrow have no accurate knowledge on which to base their comparison. Our
experience has proved the contrary to be the case.
Yet these are not the reasons why we shoot the bow: we do it because we
love it, and this is no reason; it is an emotion difficult to explain.
Nor should I close this chapter without reference to that noble company
of archers, the members of the National Archery Association--men and
women who can shoot as pretty a shaft as any who ever drew a bowstring.
The names of Will Thompson, Louis Maxson, George P. Bryant, Harry
Richardson, Dr. Robert P. Elmer, Homer Taylor, Mrs. Howell, and Cynthia
Wesson are emblazoned on the annals of archery history for all time. To
them and the many other worthy bowmen who have fostered the art in
America, we are eternally grateful. The self-imposed discipline of
target shooting is much harder work than the carefree effort of
hunting. The rewards, however, are less spectacular.
To you who would follow us into the land of Robin Hood, let me say that
what you need most is a great longing to come, and perseverance; for if
I should try to explain how we have accomplished even that little we
have in hunting, I would protest that it is because we have held to an
idea and been persistent. In my own mind the credit is ascribed to the
fact that I have surrounded myself with good companions and tried again
and again in spite of failure.
All that we have done is perfectly possible to any adventurous youth,
no matter what his age.
Nor is that which is written here the finis, for even as I scribble we
are on our journey to another hunt, and bowmen seem ever to be
increasing in numbers.
May the gods grant us all space to carry a sturdy bow and wander
through the forest glades to seek the bounding deer; to lie in the deep
meadow grasses; to watch the flight of birds; to smell the fragrance of
burning leaves; to cast an upward glance at the unobserved beauty of
the moon. May they give us strength to draw the string to the cheek,
the arrow to the barb and loose the flying shaft, so long as life may
last.
Farewell and shoot well!
[Illustration: (Signature of) Saxton Pope]
End of Project Gutenberg's Hunting with the Bow and Arrow, by Saxton Pope