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I had a double-barrelled muzzle-loadin' shotgun, a present from Bull McGinty. Bull was all broke up at me desertin' the Dashin' Wave, but I promised to save all the Aranuka trade for him an' for nobody else, an' he stood off for Suva to get himself another mate. "At first it was great business bein' king, an' I enjoyed it.
But the old Injun, Beaver Tail, says, someone told his father and his father told him that et is a Patrick Mullen gun an’ is a special make inlaid with gold and silver, an’ all ornamented up, an’ built for an ol’ muzzle-loadin’ flint-lock.
"Uncle Sim hed ter s'render his shootin'-irons," she explained, "an' he 'ain't got no ca'tridge-loadin' ones lef. So he makes out with his old muzzle-loadin' rifle that he hed afore the war, an' I moulds his bullets for him rainy days."
"White white," he murmured, without knowledge that he spoke aloud. Ralph's face was working. His excitement, slow to rise, now overwhelmed him, and he answered in a similar tone. "That hair," he muttered. "Dark, dark; an' them chaps wi' beads of Injun patte'n. An' the muzzle-loadin' weapin." Nick took up the argument as his brother broke off. "It's a squaw, too."
"He used to sneak for the McKittrick cabin where he kep' an ol' muzzle-loadin' shot-gun, an' shot quail aroun' them springs up there when he'd ought to be workin'. Then he'd come in an' brag, tellin' how he'd never missed a shot.
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