Issue link: https://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/575593
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S 3 7 T here was an unmistakable grace about it, in a subtle way that's hard to describe yet unmistakable if you saw it. It was the embodiment of the dictum that form should follow function. Its function was to carry well and shoot birds. And to bind a boy forever to wild places and to the creatures that live there, and to the dogs that kept his company and led him to the places he needed to go. It was lean and lithe and athletically muscular in appearance. It was a real sidelock, with all that the title implies. And though it didn't breathe, it had life and soul. My Grandfather gave it to me when I was 12. I was gunless and we were bearing down on the beginning of hunting season. The situation was simply intolerable, so he made the sacrifice that old men sometimes do for young men they love, and passed the gun on to me. It was called "the automatic hammerless," and it was made by the long-defunct Lefever Arms Company, about the time when the 19th century turned into the 20th. Years before, Papa had lost his Parker when his boat capsized on the Savannah River and the Lefever was the only duck gun he could get on short notice. Papa got so attached to it that it stuck, and he never hunted with any other shotgun for the rest of his life. Its long brown barrels were both Try as I might, I never managed to wear it out, and even if I had worn it to the point of looseness, the brainchild of Dan Lefever was totally adjustable for wear. The knuckle that serves in place of a hinge pin is adjustable to put the gun back on face, should the need arise, and the barrel lump and locking lug are also screw-adjustable for wear as well. In fact, the automatic hammer- less was advertised as "the gun that never shoots loose." It is a testament to the genius of Dan Lefever that now, more than 100 years later, we still marvel at modern designs that effectively do the same thing. I'd still have that gun if it hadn't somehow disappeared in the impromptu pandemonium of an unpleasant divorce. In my growing up years, I shot every kind of gun that I could get my hands on. Despite my love for doubles, I even went through a "repeater phase," which continued until I figured out I could actually kill more birds with two good shots, than I could with three hurried shots. I still have a soft spot for Browning's old Belgian-made A-5, and the Winchester Model 12, too. After my dalliance with repeaters, I tried a number of over/unders and eventually drifted back to my roots and side-by- sides. I certainly wouldn't claim that I tried every shotgun made during that he old Lefever's engraving remains as crisp today as when it was cut. T Happening upon the Old Lefever side-by-side, suddenly the years slipped away and he was a boy again. full-choked. It was purely a duck gun in design, but I didn't know it. It had Damascus barrels, too, but I was equally oblivious to that. I just knew that the barrels had a gorgeous swirly pattern to them. Since I didn't know any better, I shot every kind of 12-gauge shell that I could lay my hands on, and since it was the only gun I had, I indiscriminately shot doves and quail and rabbits and squirrels and ducks and even foxes with it. At nearly eight pounds, it wasn't an ideal quail gun, but I shot a wagonload of bobwhites with it over a period of several years. It was the gun that made me into a bonafide fan of the side-by- side, two-barreled gun. Robert Matthews h o t g u n s S