I played with a broken one of those when I was a kid. My father told me that when he married my mom (the late 1920s) the pistol was operational, and he jokingly told her "Hey woman, I want squirrel for dinner." My mom, who was 17 at the time, picked up the pistol, walked out to the nearby trees on the farm, fired one shot, and a squirrel dropped from the top of a tree. She turned to my Dad and said "I killed it, you skin it."
My Father told me "Son, I have always been nice to your mother since that day."