Thanks for posting that, RIPP!

Loved the Hump!

Great guns.

Have had a few over the years. None now.

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Imagine it's October 12, 1907 and you are 14 and old one-eyed GAR-member Hiram MacCallum, the guy that owns the quarter section down the road from you is still shooting ducks in his stock pond with a 16 gauge front-loading Springfield Forager, and your old man arrives home from the stockyards with a box, grinning ear-to-ear.

You ask what's up and he opens the box and pulls out a strange-looking Thing that sort of resembles a gun because it has a trigger and a skinny tube out front.

He says "Let's go" and you stroll after him as you head for the clump of oak trees down by the creek. On the way, he pulls out a handfull of shotshells, sort of clumsily thumbs them into the guts of the Thing and points at a clump of dirt about 15 paces away and says "Watch this!"

"WHHAM/WHHAM/WHHAM/WHHAM/WHHAM" spews out of the skinny end faster than you can think it and the clump of dirt is now a divot.

You blurt out "Golldarnit Father am I on a bash or did I see that for reals!"

A short interlude occurs while your old man grills you about hard liquor but after that he puffs up and says: "Son, you just saw what you saw!"

Three hours later you and your old man float back home, you carrying 3 and he 4 big fox squirrels and you in your front and back overall pockets all the empty hulls. 5 being the old Black Powder shells and 3 the New-Fangled Smokeless ones from a box of Number 6's your old man packed back with the Thing.

The Thing not knowing a lick of difference.