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Updated: May 23, 2025
They were single flint-lock guns, with blue-stained barrels of a dangerously brittle character, and red-painted brass-mounted stocks, that gave them the appearance of huge toys.
After that I felt reckless and put No. 2 and No. 8 into a Children's Hospital poor box. I tried fossils next. I got two in ten years. Then I quit. A friend of mine once showed me a very fine collection of ancient and curious weapons, and for a time I was full of that idea. I gathered several interesting specimens, such as: No. 1. Old flint-lock musket, used by my grandfather. No. 2.
A continuous battle raged for several hours, the savages discharging a shot, then scampering off out of range as fast as their ponies could carry them. Some, more brave than others would venture closer to the corral, and one of these got the contents of an old-fashioned flint-lock musket in his bowels.
She bends over him, and he kisses her. She says, "What dost thou want?" "That thou shalt untie me." She unties him. He says to her: "Keep silent. Do not speak a word." Then he unfastens the shackles that bind his feet, puts on his cloak, takes his gun, draws out the old charge and loads it anew, examines the flint-lock and sees that it works well. Then he says to the woman, "Lift up the Targui."
Morgan called it the "Ganowanian" race. The stranger's attire was old and clouted; the barrel of his flint-lock musket was rusted, and the stock was actually overgrown with small funguses. It was a peculiarity of this man that everything he carried was more or less broken and outworn.
Their old-fashioned bronze field-pieces, flint-lock pistols and long-barrelled Arab guns, although deadly weapons in the hands of such expert shots, proved no match against such irresistible appliances as the Maxim, the Hotchkiss, or the modern English-made rifle.
While the Indian summer still held carnival in the forests of Virginia, Jackson found himself once more on the Shenandoah. Some regiments of militia, the greater part of which were armed with flint-lock muskets, and a few squadrons of irregular cavalry formed his sole command. The autumn of 1861 was a comparatively quiet season.
Still the horsemen each armed with the muzzle-loading, single-barrelled, flint-lock gun of the period advanced cautiously, until so near that the animals began to look up as if in surprise at the unwonted intrusion on their great solitudes.
And, glaring like a madman straight into my eyes, he held it there while one might perhaps have slowly counted ten, and then pulled the trigger. There was a sharp click and a little shower of sparks as the flint-lock fell, and that was all. "Missed fire, by all the furies!" he exclaimed, dashing the weapon violently to the deck, where it instantly exploded.
I saw the trooper aim a great horse-pistol that might have been a hundred years old, and I have no doubt that the bullet was as big as they fire in those ancient flint-lock muskets. It stunned me for the moment; but I was on my feet at once, and saw you fall," the sergeant explained. "Are you much hurt, Fronklyn?" asked Deck. "Only a flesh-wound that will heal up in a week, or less.
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