Nagant M1895 Precision
NAGANT M1895 PRECISION. (See also, NAGANT M1895, SHARPSHOOTERS) The Nagant M1895 Precision is simply a typical single-action revolver with a sturdy leather and metal pistol stock that doubles as a holster. This allows it to be supported in the crook of the shoulder, and guarantees much greater stability, and increased accuracy
Letter to Frank Chambers
Author: Russell "Snakeskin "Chambers
Single loose sheet, 8.5 x 11 in.
3/9
Pa,
I've enclosed $10. Write me that vou've received it.
The hunting started good. We bagged a few easy contracts. Quick money: Sick men. Alone in the swamps. Something rotten in their mind. In their flesh too. Each one, we took a hand. My Nagant has a stock that nestles into the forearm, accurate and powerful enough to pick them off - it turns out I'm a dead shot.
The other prisoners, we made one big posse. There's a huge Russian we call The Bear (who noted my gun, but says he himself prefers to only fight with fists), an old man named Pellella, and a girl from Oregon, Billy. The Sheriff led us, still wearing his badge.
Things took a turn for the worse when we went out looking for a man called The Butcher. Said to be impossible to kill. Hiding in an old Slaughterhouse. Two days out. The first day, Pellella and Billy had took sixteen hands a piece. They were overflowing their packs. When we set up camp, they thought aloud about heading back to town already, having so many hands.
I woke that night with a start. Pellella and The Bear were scrabbling on the floor. Were they wrestling? When my eyes adjusted to the moonlight, I realized they were fighting, just not each other. Hands, crawling over them, clawing, strangling. The severed hands of the dead men. I felt something grip my shoulder. It was Hardin. He said they got Billy already. I saw the dead girl: bruises round her neck. Hardin passed me my pistol
Pellella was being smothered. He was jerking around, trying to get himself free. I aimed true, and picked off the hands I could. My seventh shot, the last in the cylinder, was aimed at a hand gripping his neck, choking him out. 1 told him to sit still, but he still thrashed. His face blue, I pulled the trigger. It hit him in the temple. The Sheriff took no time in fanning his Pax to kill the rest, the bullets thudding into Pellella's lifeless body.
We took on a new rule. No trophies.
Yours,
Russell
