Here we go again, sorry for not posting last week.

Flintlock rifles were the norm in the mountains until the mid 1830s, when the caplock started to find its way west.
Flintlocks take a fair amount of care to keep in working, one of the most important factors is the state of the priming in the pan.
Mountaineers knew this and paid special attention to this, especially when they thought they might need their rifles quickly.

From E. Willard Smith, 1839:
After running him about a mile and a half I came to a valley where I found; several buffaloes grazing.
The bull I was chasing finding these buffaloes quietly grazing, stopped also and began to eat grass. Finding
him so quiet I also stopped to rest for a minute. I examined my gun and found the priming all
right. I then approached cautiously to within fifty feet’ of him, which I could not have done if he
had not been very tired from the long chase up hill. I then kneeled down and resting my ramrod
upon the ground to support the gun took deliberate aim at his heart and fired.

From George Catlin, 1830s:
I saw in the grass,
on the bank above me, what I supposed to be the back of a fine elk, busy at his grazing. I let our
craft float silently by for a little distance, when I communicated the intelligence to my men, and
slyly ran in to the shore. I pricked the priming of my firelock, and taking a bullet or two in my
mouth, stepped ashore, and trailing my rifle in my hand, went back under the bank, carefully
crawling up in a little ravine, quite sure of my game; when, to my utter surprise and violent alarm,
I found the elk to be no more nor less than an Indian pony, getting his breakfast!

From Mr. Seton, 1854:
all the firearms surrendered by the Indians on this occasion, were
found loaded with ball, and primed, with a little piece of cotton laid over the priming to keep the
powder dry.

From James O. Pattie, 1820s:
The grizzly bear, they said, was common on these
mountains, and would attack and devour me, unless I kept on my guard. I paid little attention to
their remarks at the time. But when they were gone, and I was left alone, I examined the priming,
and picked the flints of my gun and pistol. I then lay down and slept

Bill Burrows, a free trapper, by Alfred Jacob Miller

Very Good

Very interesting, as always.

Thanks guys.

I learned my lesson about priming when it cost me a nice tom turkey one fall. I had primed fresh when I sat down, but neglected to pick the touch hole. When I squeezed the trigger, I got the flash in the pan, and no bang. Needless to say, Mr. Tom didn't stick around.
I reprimed, picked and the gun went off just fine.
Its the little things.

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Enjoy your stories

Hmm cotton over the priming powder. Clever.

thanks a good read

I highly doubt a little piece of cotton would keep your priming dry. I have used a rifle lock to start fires, and a piece of cloth like that would keep sparks from getting into the touch hole.

K, do you remember the story of one of Joe Meek's comrades that fell in the stream and wetted his rifle evading a party of Blackfeet? They heard him snapping caps to dry his gun and charged the thicket he was hiding in, gut shot him, and then spent plenty of time cutting him into pieces while Joe (further back in the thicket and not noticed by the Indians) was helpless to do anything about it.

I think he told Frances Fuller Victor (his biographer) it was probably the most traumatic experience he had had in the Rockies.

Here you go BP. Took a bit of looking to find it. Happened in 1838, as told by Meek.

Leaving their camp one morning to take up their traps they were discovered and attacked by
a party of Blackfeet just as they came near the trapping ground. The only refuge at hand was a
thicket of willows on the opposite side of the creek, and towards this the trappers directed their
flight. Meek, who was in advance, succeeded in gaining the thicket without being seen; but Allen
stumbled and fell in crossing the stream, and wet his gun. He quickly recovered his footing and
crossed over; but the Blackfeet had seen him enter the thicket, and came up to within a short distance,
yet not approaching too near the place where they knew he was concealed. Unfortunately
Allen, in his anxiety to be ready for defense, commenced snapping caps on his gun to dry it. The
quick ears of the savages caught the sound, and understood the meaning of it. Knowing him to be
defenceless, they plunged into the thicket after him, shooting him almost immediately and dragging
him out still breathing to a small prairie about two rods away.

And now commenced a scene which Meek was compelled to witness, and which he declares
nearly made him insane through sympathy, fear, horror, and suspense as to his own fate. Those
devils incarnate deliberately cut up their still palpitating victim into a hundred pieces, each taking
a piece; accompanying the horrible and inhuman butchery with every conceivable gesture of contempt
for the victim, and of hellish delight in their own acts.

Meek, who was only concealed by the small patch of willows, and a pit in the sand hastily scooped
out with his knife until it was deep enough to lie in, was in a state of the most fearful excitement.
All day long he had to endure the horrors of his position. Every moment seemed an hour, every
hour a day, until when night came, and the Indians left the place, he was in a high state of fever.

About nine o’clock that night he ventured to creep to the edge of the little prairie, where he lay
and listened a long time, without hearing anything but the squirrels running over the dry leaves;
but which he constantly feared was the stealthy approach of the enemy. At last, however, he summoned
courage to crawl out on to the open ground, and gradually to work his way to a wooded
bluff not far distant. The next day he found two of his horses, and with these set out alone for
Green River, where the American Company was to rendezvous. After twenty-six days of solitary
and cautious travel he reached the appointed place in safety, having suffered fearfully from the
recollection of the tragic scene he had witnessed in the death of his friend, and also from solitude
and want of food.

Yep, that's the story. How those guys maintained sanity after events like that is almost miraculous.

Thanks for sharing that.