GUNS AND A BOY.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 227, 25 September 1929, Page 20

GUNS AND A BOY.

Jem had a rifle. That does not sound Yery terrible in itself, but then you do not live in a not-very-big-house with Jem, who is 15, and has hundreds of legs and arms, and is very, very enthusiastic about—well, about everything. Jem, it seemed, knew quite a lot about shooting. We had never heard him mention the subject before, but that made no difference, and so the night after the rifle arrived, and mother and father were out, he delivered quite a, little lecture. I don't know we were particularly grateful for this, 'but Jem didn't seem to care—or notice —in the least. When he had finished, he took, the gun and 'began to fondle it lovingly. At this point I thought it fitting to hurry away. I have no desire, whatever, to die a violent death, so sending my very youngest brother off to bed, I scurried off to my own room and closed, the door tightly. A fcouple of days later I espied 'him going out the front, door with the rifle under his arm. "Where are you off to ?" I iuquirea carelessly, 'but nevertheless consumed with a, burning curiosity. "Well, you see," said Jem, very slowly, and at the same time painstakingly trying to stare out of countenance a fat sparrow seated on the verandah post, "you see" (here he paused, obviously to give the sparrow an extra hard look, which so frightened the bird that it flew away), "I thought I'd give the gun an airing," he finished brightly. I nodded and watched Ihim stride (stride is the word) up the street, feeling 110 doubt as if he was about to conquer the world. "Well," I thought with. a ~ wicked, little chuckle, ."pride comefch before a fall," and straightway I felt at peace. It was exactly two hours later that I saw Jem sneaking in the back door (I'm sure he was sneaking) in a shockingly i muddy condition and minus the gun. "Oh I say," I began excitedly, "where's the gun ?" Jem turned and looked at me with an incredibly blank look, as if guns, or any particular gun, were the things most distant from his thoughts at that moment. "The gun?" he said vaguely. "The gun? Oh, yes, where is the gun?" and with that he went. "Where is. the gun?" I heard myself repeating in a trance. "He doesn't know. Oh lor!" and I sank bewildered into the nearest chair. At dinner that, night father, feeling expansive, no doubt, inquired after the welfare of the gun. "Well, you see," said Jem slowly, then the stopped. He gave one the impression of being very hot under the collar. "You eee," he continued, "it's like this. I took the rifle out " "Yes," said dad. Jem was staring so hard at the flowers in the centre of°the table that I was beginning to think he must have a grievance against them.. "Go on," urged dad, Jem visibly shook himself and "went on." "I went over the hills there"—he waved bis arm vaguely. "I I thought perhaps I might see sometbin ° -to —er—to shoot." Another pause. "What did you think you might see— a lion or a tiger?" queried dad with a en "0h no," said Jem earnestly, "a ja/bbfo WelVat any rate, I saw a poHoeioMi— *— 1 "

"Oh," said dad with more interest. "Oh!" chorused the rest of the family in unison, and immediately I upset a glass of water to prove how interested I was. "And," Jem continued, "'he gave me this." "This," proved to be a slip of blue paper, and incidentally a notice to appear at the Police Court on n, charge of carrying a gun without a'license. Of what father said to Jem afterwards there is no telling, but I do know that the little tin box that contains all Jem's finances was considerably lighter for a long time after tins. Maybe he was paying fines. Who knows? ■ ',• i