This is a picture of a Model
Larry (that's me) and Tim Haslett were out with the .22 rifle one day (without permission) plunking at things. We went out of town to the southeast.
We shot at rocks and cans and other things. There was a bird up in the tree about 50 feet up. Plunk! The bird rotated around the branch on with it supported itself. I must have hit it.
About that time we noticed a big red truck in the distance. It was my dad in his delivery truck from Conejos County Gas and Oil. Of course he recognized me. He came to inquire as to our activities, but before he could get there I dropped the rifle in the bottom of the dry ditch to try and hide that I had it. I am not sure if he knew I had the rifle or not, he may have known, but he told us to stay out of trouble and told me to get home. I left the rifle there with the intent of coming later to get it.
Irrigation in town is performed by running water through open ditches in town and then backing the water up with small dams or headgates in the ditch. It was somebodies time to water, and water was turned down the ditch. The rifle was still there. I retrieved the rifle, but not before it had developed a irregular coating of redish brown material. It rusted!
I took the rifle home and told my dad what had happened. He did not seem to surprised, and he told me to fix it. I bought some bluing, cleaned the rust, and reconditioned the rifle. I used this rifle extensively after that.
This is what I remember it looked like.
Kent received the rifle. Donnie and I already had our times with it.
