George Bemis . . . wore in his belt an old original
“Allen” revolver, such as irreverent people called
a “pepper-box.”
Simply drawing the trigger back, cocked and fired
the pistol.
As the trigger came back, the hammer would begin to
rise and the barrel to turn over, and presently down
would drop the hammer, and away would speed the ball.
To aim along the turning barrel and hit the thing aimed
at was a feat which was probably never done with an
“Allen” in the world.
But George's was a reliable weapon, nevertheless,
because, as one of the stage-drivers afterward said,
“If she didn't get what she went after, she would
fetch something else.”
And so she did.
She went after a deuce of spades nailed against a
tree, once, and fetched a mule standing about thirty
yards to the left of it.
Bemis did not want the mule; but the owner came out
with a double-barreled shotgun and persuaded him to
buy it, anyhow.
It was a cheerful weapon—the “Allen.”
Sometimes all its six barrels would go off at once,
and then there was no safe place in all the region
round about, but behind it.
- Roughing It Mark Twain