The single-barrel gun has passed out of modern sport; but I remember
mine with regret, and think I shall some day buy another. I still find
that the best double-barrel seems top-heavy in comparison; in poising
it the barrels have a tendency to droop. Guns, of course, are built to
balance and lie level in the hand, so as to almost aim themselves as
they come to the shoulder; and those who have always shot with a
double-barrel are probably quite satisfied with the gun on that score.
To me there seems too much weight in the left hand and towards the end
of the gun. Quickness of firing keeps the double-barrel to the front;
but suppose a repeater were to be invented, some day, capable of
discharging two cartridges in immediate succession? And if two
cartridges, why not three? An easy thought, but a very difficult one to
realise. Something in the _power_ of the double-barrel--the
overwhelming odds it affords the sportsman over bird and
animal--pleases. A man feels master of the copse with a double-barrel;
and such a sense of power, though only over feeble creatures, is
fascinating. Besides, there is the delight of effect; for a clever
right and left is sure of applause and makes the gunner feel "good" in
himself. Doubtless, if three barrels could be managed, three barrels
would be more saleable than doubles. One gun-maker has a four-barrel
gun, quite a light weight too, which would be a tremendous success if
the creatures would obligingly run and fly a little slower, so that all
four cartridges could be got in. But that they will not do. For the
present, the double-barrel is the gun of the time.
Still I mean some day to buy a single-barrel, and wander with it as of
old along the hedges, aware that if I am not skilful enough to bring
down with the first shot I shall lose my game. It is surprising how
confident of that one shot you may get after a while. On the one hand,
it is necessary to be extremely keen; on the other, to be sure of your
own self-control, not to fire uselessly. The bramble-bushes on the
shore of the ditch ahead might cover a hare. Through the dank and
dark-green aftermath a rabbit might suddenly come bounding, disturbed
from the furrow where he had been feeding. On the sandy paths which the
rabbits have made aslant up the mound, and on their terraces, where
they sit and look out from under the boughs, acorns have dropped ripe
from the tree. Where there are acorns there may be pheasants; they may
crouch in the fern and dry grey grass of the hedge thinking you do not
see them, or else rush through and take wing on the opposite side. The
only chance of a shot is as the bird passes a gap--visible while flying
a yard--just time to pull the trigger. But I would rather have that
chance than have to fire between the bars of a gate; for the horizontal
lines cause an optical illusion, making the object appear in a
different position from what it really is in, and half the pellets are
sure to be buried in the rails. Wood-pigeons, when eagerly stuffing
their crops with acorns, sometimes forget their usual caution; and,
walking slowly, I have often got right underneath one--as unconscious
of his presence as he was of mine, till a sudden dashing of wings
against boughs and leaves announced his departure. This he always makes
on the opposite side of the oak, so as to have the screen of the thick
branches between himself and the gunner. The wood-pigeon, starting like
this from a tree, usually descends in the first part of his flight, a
gentle downward curve followed by an upward rise, and thus comes into
view at the lower part of the curve. He still seems within shot, and to
afford a good mark; and yet experience has taught me that it is
generally in vain to fire. His stout quills protect him at the full
range of the gun. Besides, a wasted shot alarms everything within
several hundred yards; and in stalking with a single-barrel it needs as
much knowledge to choose when not to fire as when you may.
The most exciting work with the single-barrel was woodcock shooting;
woodcock being by virtue of rarity a sort of royal game, and a miss at
a woodcock a terrible disappointment. They have a trick of skimming
along the very summit of a hedge, and looking so easy to kill; but, as
they fly, the tops of tall briers here, willow-rods next, or an
ash-pole often intervene, and the result is apt to be a bough cut off
and nothing more. Snipes, on the contrary, I felt sure of with the
single-barrel, and never could hit them so well with a double. Either
at starting, before the snipe got into his twist, or waiting till he
had finished that uncertain movement, the single-barrel seemed to drop
the shot with certainty. This was probably because of its perfect
natural balance, so that it moved as if on a pivot. With the single I
had nothing to manage but my own arms; with the other I was conscious
that I had a gun also. With the single I could kill farther, no matter
what it was. The single was quicker at short shots--snap-shots, as at
rabbits darting across a narrow lane; and surer at long shots, as at a
hare put out a good way ahead by the dog.
For everything but the multiplication of slaughter I liked the single
best; I had more of the sense of woodcraft with it. When we consider
how helpless a partridge is, for instance, before the fierce blow of
shot, it does seem fairer that the gunner should have but one chance at
the bird. Partridges at least might be kept for single-barrels: great
bags of partridges never seemed to be quite right. Somehow it seems to
me that to take so much advantage as the double-barrel confers is not
altogether in the spirit of sport. The double-barrel gives no "law." At
least to those who love the fields, the streams, and woods for their
own sake, the single-barrel will fill the bag sufficiently, and will
permit them to enjoy something of the zest men knew before the
invention of weapons not only of precision but of repetition:
inventions that rendered them too absolute masters of the situation. A
single-barrel will soon make a sportsman the keenest of shots. The gun
itself can be built to an exquisite perfection--lightness, handiness,
workmanship, and performance of the very best. It is said that you can
change from a single-barrel shot-gun to a sporting rifle and shoot with
the rifle almost at once; while many who have been used to the
slap-dash double cannot do anything for some time with a rifle. More
than one African explorer has found his single-barrel smooth-bore the
most useful of all the pieces in his battery; though, of course, of
much larger calibre than required in our fields.