“I let him approach to within about 15 yards. The moment I moved [the rifle] he caught sight of me. … I pulled the trigger, and to my horror heard the dull snap. …”
That misfire could have snuffed J.H. Patterson’s quest to kill a lion — or any pleasant prospects more than a few heartbeats off. It unnerved Patterson, who later admitted: “I forgot to fire the left barrel, and lowered the rifle … with the intention of reloading. …” But there was no time.
The cat decided his fate. After a dismissive glance, it bounded off.
Patterson had better luck than many of his laborers on the Uganda railway, whose construction was then stalled near the Tsavo River. The lion was one of a pair braving campfires at night to snatch and eat the men cowering in their camps.
Orders from the British Foreign Office had reached Patterson soon after his March 1, 1899, arrival in Mombasa. The next morning, he boarded a train that crossed the Strait of Macupa, climbed the wooded Rabai hills and chugged through the Taru desert. Many kilometers on, he spied the N’dungu escarpment. Then: railhead. Thousands of Indian coolies were pushing the steel ribbons “with all speed” into the bush beyond the Tsavo. Patterson’s job: replace the temporary bridge with a permanent span. Soon, “the noise of hammers and sledges, drilling and blasting, echoed merrily through the district.”
To the man-eaters, it was a summons.
Follow-up shots would later prove crucial to Patterson’s career. Hunting foxes, coyotes and other predators that don’t eat people, you won’t bet your skin on another bullet. A magazine is just convenient. Single-shot purists might call it a crutch.
In my experience, the first shot almost always affords the best chance for a kill. It seems hunters who fill their magazines to capacity are typically not as careful to make the first poke lethal as those who slip a couple of rounds onto the follower. Betting on one cartridge to kill is a powerful incentive to aim and fire carefully!
Still, a second shot can be helpful, even when you’ve done everything right.
Anatomy of a Second Shot
Before the advent of metallic cartridges, military rifles and almost all sporters limited the shooter to one chance. Recharging a muzzle-loading rifle required time, focus and actions that disarmed him. His adversary or quarry had time to press an advantage or escape. Panic could follow a shot that failed to get quick results. A Navy report in the 1860s showed how terror in battle rendered muzzle-loading rifles useless:
“Of [27,574 guns collected after combat] we found at least 24,000 of these loaded; about one-half of these contained two loads each, one fourth from three to 10 loads each. In many of these guns, from two to six balls [were] found with only one charge of powder. In some … the charge of powder [was] on top of the ball. Twenty-three loads were found in one Springfield rifle-musket, each loaded in regular order.”
Muzzleloaders gradually gave way to breech-loading rifles. Thirty years before crews laid rails west of Mombasa, America’s leading gun-maker, Remington, bought the N.P. Ames Co. Included in that deal were the talents of Welsh designer William Jenks, whose breech-loading carbine had bright prospects in the Army. Alas, late during a 1,500-shot test, a nipple broke, disqualifying the arm. After a sulk abroad, Jenks returned at the government’s behest, altering his carbine for cardboard cartridges coated with tallow and beeswax. A year later, William Jenks fell from a hay wagon on his farm and died.
At war’s end, sons Philo, Samuel and Eliphalet III replaced military contracts by courting sportsmen with the Rolling Block rifle, a result of Joseph Rider’s work on the Geiger design.
Introduced in 1866, the sturdy Rolling Block had a rotating breech block. Thumbing the hammer to full cock, the shooter retracted the block, inserted a cartridge then pushed the block forward. Block and hammer interlocked at the instant of firing. The rifle was quick to load, practiced shooters sending up to 20 rounds a minute! It was strong, too. In tests, a Rolling Block was loaded with 40 balls and 750 grains of powder, the charge filling 36 inches of its 40-inch barrel. Upon firing, “nothing extraordinary occurred.”
Sharps Rifles
New Jersey-born Christian Sharps began working on guns during the 1830s under the tutelage of John Harris Hall, who’d patented a breech-loading single-shot rifle in 1811. In 1848, still in his 30s but now on his own, Sharps got a patent for a breech-block that slid vertically by an under-lever. It was designed for paper cartridges to replace the lock of the 1841 Mississippi rifle. Sadly, it was better engineered than promoted.
Albert S. Nippes took a chance with Sharps, contracting to build 100 to 200 Sharps rifles in 1849. The Sharps Rifle Manufacturing Co. took root two years later. Tensions between the North and South spurred government interest and improvements in Sharps rifles.
Christian Sharps died of tuberculosis soon after the Civil War, but Sharps converted percussion guns for metallic ammunition and fed the market with single shots popular with buffalo hunters. The New Model 1869, in .40/50, .40/70, .44/77, .45/70 and .50/70, preceded by a few months the New Model 1874 but soon faded. The 1874 Sharps endured for 12 years after its 1870 debut, selling through the peak of the market hunting era.
Sharps produced its own metallic cartridges: six .40s, three .44s, four .45s and three .50s. The .50-caliber favored by buffalo hunters used 100 grains of blackpowder in a 2.5-inch case, behind a 473-grain paper-patched bullet. But despite their power, such cartridges did nothing for the longevity of Sharps rifles. An Indian warrior finding or stealing one could use it only if there was ammunition with it. Smashed Sharps rifles were found near the bodies of hapless hunters and settlers. Model ’73 Winchesters and Springfields, in contrast, were prized, as .44-40 and .45-70 cartridges were everywhere.
Sharps match rifles impressed target shooters. A 22-pound Model 1874 in .44-90, with installed scope and spirit level, fetched $118. Still, the 1874 had flaws: Its extractor was weak, and cartridges could be inserted ahead of it. Lock time was slave to the hammer’s long arc. Corrections ensued; but repeating rifles had already put the skids under single shots. Prairies emptied by commercial hunters using its big-bore rifles brought the company to its knees in 1880. By the middle of the next decade, human scavengers would glean 3 million tons of bones from the Great Plains.
Enter the Repeating Rifle
Repeating rifles predate metallic cartridges. Despite a balky mechanism and anemic loads, Walter Hunt’s 1849 Volitional Repeater sold to investors keen to tap this nascent market. In 1860, Benjamin Tyler Henry fashioned from it a rifle that would bring Oliver Winchester a firearms dynasty.
While Winchester lever actions got an invaluable boost from John Browning beginning in 1886, the rifle that sparked that relationship was a single shot. In 1878, John, age 23, sketched the action, hand-forged and filed the parts to dimension, then wrote to supplier Schoverling, Daly and Gales in New York: “Please tell me how to patent a gun.” His first patent arrived May 12, 1879. With brothers Matt, Ed, Sam and George, he built a shop on the hem of Ogden, Utah, 50 miles from where the transcontinental rails had met a decade earlier. There they built John’s single shot. It sold for $25.
In 1883, Winchester salesman Andrew McAusland came upon a used Browning rifle. At that time the company dominated the market in repeaters, but it had nothing to compete with powerful Sharps and Remington single shots favored by buffalo hunters. Winchester VP Thomas G. Bennett made the six-day rail trip to Ogden. He bought all rights to John Browning’s rifle for $8,000.
The rifle appeared as the Winchester Model 1885 that year. It was stronger than the Army’s 1873 “Trapdoor” Springfield and slimmer than the equally stout 1874 Sharps. Discontinued in 1920, the Model 1885 would be resurrected by Browning in 1973, in modern chamberings, as the Model 78. Later it would be renamed the 1885 and returned to Winchester’s stable in High Wall and Low Wall versions (referring to the height of the receiver behind the breech). Winchester still lists the Low Wall in .17 and .22 rimfire chamberings. The High Wall returned as part of the company’s Limited series of “classic” rifles.
The No. 1 Dropping Block
One of the most fetching sporting rifles ever produced is Bill Ruger’s dropping block No. 1. Yes, that’s my opinion, but it’s widely shared. Unveiled in 1966 (in figured walnut for $265), this single shot has appeared in many chamberings and a half-dozen configurations. Alas, it is now less affordable, much less available and, as fancy walnut has become scarce, even less attractive.
The No. 1’s inspiration was a rifle designed by John Farquharson of Daldhu, Scotland, in 1872. He peddled part interest in his work to Bristol gun-maker George Gibbs, who manufactured the rifle until its patent expired in 1889. Though fewer than 1,000 Gibbs Farquharsons left the shop before the last was shipped in 1910, the action found its way into other rifles as well. Auguste Francotte of Herstal, Belgium, copied it. So did British maker W.J. Jeffery & Co, as early as 1895. In 1904, Jeffery developed an oversized version for the .600 Nitro Express. Farquharson actions built after the Gibbs era feature a “PD” stamp to show the design had become public domain. You’ll hock your yacht to snag an original Farquharson now.
Ruger’s No. 1 has an adjustable spring-loaded extractor to permit use of rimless cartridges. You can choose ejection or a gently raised case.
I’ve found No. 1B and V rifles (mid-weight and stiffer barrels, standard forend with swivel stud) most consistently accurate. The short Alex Henry fore-stock of the A, S and Tropical H models is part of their appeal. But I routinely use a sling when shooting. A sling tugging on a barrel-mounted swivel affects the point of impact.
To be sure, the forend hanger on Ruger’s No. 1B and V does not ensure a free-float condition or consistent contact when you snug a sling or press the rifle hard onto a bipod. Initially, a taut sling on my No. 1B in .300 Winchester pulled shots 9 inches to 7 o’clock at 200 yards! Some shooters have stabilized the forend with a set screw; I inserted a rubber hose washer near the rear of the hanger and a brass shim at the forend tip. Displacement between bench and taut-sling groups shrank to an acceptable 4 inches.
Wide Price Spread
Years ago, some single-shot rifles on the U.S. market were delightfully inexpensive. The Director of Civilian Marksmanship once peddled 1873 Springfields to NRA members for $1.25! In my youth, the trim, hinged-breech Savage 219 in .22 Hornet and .30-30 listed at $38.75. Alas, shoveling snow off walks and driveways brought just 50 cents per address, and my parents thought ill of such powerful rifles.
Of course, even then the dropping-block rifles of buffalo hunters and Scheutzen competitors had vaulted in price. Those in top condition fetched sums as daunting as those asked for British single shots. Some years ago, a friend offered me an original Sharps “Old Reliable,” unaltered and in fine condition. I delayed a decision; he sold it in a heartbeat for $9,000.
The wide price spread for single shots has endured. An Austrian kipplauf, or stalking rifle, from the Fanzoj shop in the ancient gun-making center of Ferlach can set you back five figures. But the market has plenty of used utility rifles. Harrington & Richardson expired in 1986, to re-emerge in 1991 as H&R 1871, with a hinged-breech Handi-Rifle in chamberings .223 to .45-70. Bought by Marlin in 2000, which was swallowed by Remington in 2009, H&R faded. The Handi-Rifle was pronounced dead by 2015.
Another discontinued single shot worth a predator hunter’s attention is the hinged-breech, switch-barrel pistol invented by Warren Center for the K.W. Thompson Tool Company in 1967. The Contender was initially limited to cartridges with breech pressures under 48,000 psi. It sold well in .22 LR and pistol chamberings, also .30-30 Win. By the mid-1980s, T/C added the Encore, with a larger frame and locking lug, and an improved trigger. Those innards blessed the G2 Contender, too. In pistol and rifle versions, T/C single shots have been barreled to more than 80 cartridges, .22 Hornet to .416 Rigby! Scope friendly, they have earned a reputation for fine accuracy.
Recently, mid-priced single shots have come to include Italian-built imports. Peddled stateside by Cimarron, Taylor’s and UbertiUSA, most are reproductions of revered 19th century arms: the “Trapdoor” Springfield, Remington Rolling Block, Winchester High Wall and 1874 Sharps. The “Courteney” stalking rifle by UbertiUSA owes much to my friend and fellow history buff Tom Leoni.
The Single-Shot Advantage
If you aren’t routinely pestered by mercenary squads of coyotes or vengeful bobcats, one shot per encounter might be all you ask of a predator rifle. With a single shot, you’ll enjoy several advantages:
- With no magazine, no cartridge-length bolt, the action can be very short. Compared to repeating rifles with same-length barrels, most single shots are roughly 4 inches shorter. Put another way, you get 4 additional inches of barrel with a single-shot of the same overall length. The Ruger No. 1S with a 26-inch barrel is as nimble in hand and as easy to wield in thickets as a Winchester Model 70 Featherweight.
- A single shot’s receiver is flat, like that of a lever action. There’s no projecting bolt knob to hang up in brush or scabbards.
- Simplicity is usually a virtue, and on balance, single-shot rifles have fewer parts, fewer functions to fail than do magazine rifles — though the design of the best single shots show engineering skills equal to those evident in top-shelf repeaters. Some single-shot actions are mechanically brilliant.
- The absence of reserve cartridges and magazines makes single shots lighter than repeating rifles, a welcome difference on long hikes in snow or on the steeps.
- Safety is also often hailed as an advantage for the single shot. It’s either loaded or unloaded. There’s no cartridge lurking in a magazine to sneak into the chamber and surprise inattentive, stupid or newly minted shooters. It can be argued, however, that safety is a responsibility, neither a function of firearm design nor a device to prevent accidental discharge. The chamber of a magazine rifle is as innocent as that of a single shot. Loaded, they have equal potential.
- While some bolt rifles, even lever actions, have been designed to accept interchangeable barrels, this option is easier to design into single shots, which as a result sell for less than switch-barrel repeaters.
Night fell. A growl jarred Patterson awake. From his flimsy machan 12 feet above what was left of the donkey, he could see nothing. Slight sounds in the dark edged nearer. Pulse racing, hardly daring to breathe, Patterson held fast for two hours. Suddenly, a huge feline form appeared at his feet. He fired, and kept firing as the lion thrashed about. Dawn’s glow revealed the dead cat. One soft nose had struck a hind leg, another the heart. A burden for eight men, the carcass taped 3 meters, nose to tail tip.
Short nights later, a camp official heard what he thought was a drunken coolie on his veranda. “Go away!” he yelled. The intruder left after killing and eating two goats. Patterson saw the evidence and tied three goats to a 250-pound length of rail, then settled into a machan above. The lion returned, killing one goat, then dragging it and the others, with the rail, into the darkness. Patterson got no shot. He trailed the cat the next day, found the remaining goats dead but uneaten and set up again. That night, two slugs from his shotgun staggered the second man-eater. But his optimism vanished with the spoor the next morning.
The night of December 27 that lion returned, passing empty tents to circle a tree festooned with terrified coolies. So Patterson put a machan in that tree. The animal came silently after dark. At 20 steps Patterson put a .303 bullet in its chest, firing three more as it scrambled off. The following day, a growl from a thicket alerted the tracking party. Patterson spotted the cat; his shot brought it on. A second bullet knocked it down. But it bounced up. When a third shot had no effect, he reached for his Martini. It wasn’t there! Patterson barely beat the lion to the nearest tree, where he fired twice more into the beast, killing it.
Between them, the two Tsavo lions had devoured at least 28 Indian coolies, plus African natives of whom no record was kept. Some predator hunts are best not undertaken with a single-shot rifle.
