The guns would have moved any modern explorer to merriment; but such as they were I managed to do a good deal of execution with them.

One of them was a single-barrelled, smooth bore, fitted for percussion caps--a roer we called it--which threw a three-ounce ball, and was charged with a handful of coarse black powder.
Many is the elephant that I killed with that roer, although it generally knocked me backwards when I fired it, which I only did under compulsion.
The best of the lot, perhaps, was a double-barrelled No.

12 shot-gun, but it had flint locks.

Also there were some old tower muskets, which might or might not throw straight at seventy yards.

I took six Kaffirs with me, and three good horses, which were supposed to be salted--that is, proof against the sickness.