Is that where we get the term “money shot”?

4 quarters? 

He told the guy that skinned the critter to keep the change.

Peter Hathaway Capstick wrote about this.  I have an original tome on the life of Sir Samuel Baker.  Loved 4-bores and hunted with them.  His life was an incredible story.  His wife (European woman) he purchased from an Arab slave trader.  I would have to look in my library for other references.  My African library is about 200 books on guns, hunting and biographies.  I'm donating it to ASSRA.  Was fun while I was hunting Africa.

Laurie and I spoke and we will meet half-way in Quincy, IL.  Some great British gun books with a ton of information and some hard to find biographies of the great and lesser known hunting legends. Might as well share with everyone. I'm still looking for that book on German Schuetzen rifles.  It's in German but I know there are those here who speak the language.

calledflyer wrote on May 30^th, 2024 at 8:29am:


Na, that was what William Bonney said to Bob Olinger 

[continuing with THE RIFLE AND HOUND IN CEYLON ] At this moment I heard a splashing in the water behind me, accompanied by the hard breathing of something evidently distressed. The next moment I heard B.'s voice. He could hardly speak for want of breath, having run the whole way to my rescue, but I could understand that he had only one barrel loaded and no bullets left. I dared not turn my face from the buffalo, but I cautioned B.  to reserve his fire till the bull should be close into me, and then to aim at the head.

The words were hardly uttered, when, with the concentrated rage of the last twenty minutes, he rushed straight at me. It was the work of an instant. B. fired without effect. The horns were lowered, their points were on either side of me, and the muzzle of the gun barely touched his forehead when I pulled the trigger, and three shillings' worth of small change rattled into his hard head. Down he went, and rolled over with the suddenly checked momentum of .his charge. Away went B. and I as fast as our heels would carry us, through the water and over the plain, knowing that he was not dead but only stunned. There was a large fallen tree about half a mile from us, whose whitened branches rising high above the ground offered a tempting asylum. To this we directed our flying steps, and after a run of a hundred yards, we turned and looked behind us. He had regained his feet and was following us slowly. We now experienced the difference of feeling between hunting and being hunted, and fine sport we must have afforded him.  

On he came, but fortunately so stunned by the collision with her Majesty's features upon the coin which he had dared to oppose that he could only reel forward at a slow canter. By degrees even this pace slackened, and he fell. We were only too glad to be able to reduce our speed likewise, but we had no sooner stopped to breathe than he was again up and after us. At length, however, we gained the tree and we beheld him with satisfaction stretched powerless upon the ground, but not dead, within two hundred yards of us.  We retreated under cover of the forest to the spot at which we had left the horses, fortunately meeting no opposition from wild animals, and we shortly arrived at the village at which we took up our quarters, vowing vengeance on the following morning for the defeat that we had sustained.

Jeeezzz what a story. Some folks have all the fun...



   JMH

How badly do you want it????

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