After some deliberation, multiple hoots and frequent spins of the revolver's cylinder, we headed out in search of a train to hold up, a bank to rob, or a posse of Pinkertons to play cat and mouse with. Despite our commitment to engaging in criminal acts, we eventually settled the steel sights of our trusty tools on some unsuspecting clay pigeons conveniently arranged in our backyard. Our half-hour gun fight left far more cartridges shot than targets hit and without a doubt, many New York financiers would have taken three to one odds on the clay pigeon in a duel. We swore, we shot, we complained about ear plugs, we kicked piles of dirt and we shot some more; I guess boys will always be boys.
Here are some more links,
The Huntington Brothers (Picasa).