Col. George Hunter, in his quaintly interesting narrative "Reminiscences of an Old Timer," tells of a somewhat similar incident down in the Rogue River country. He says: "One day there had assembled at a store, where the double-distilled extract of corn was chiefly dispensed, a considerable crowd of men, most of whom were violent secessionists, and they were soon filled up, as good democrats were supposed to be, with the exhilarating beverage. From some cause or other the grand old Stars and Stripes had on this day been raised on a pole or staff near by, and pretty soon these half-tipsy fellows took offense at the defiant colors, and swore they would tear it down. Two or more of them started to execute the threat. Some of the crowd remonstrated, but to no avail. I being a stranger and a democrat, supposed the republicans present would protect the flag, but seeing no movement in that direction, and that if the flag was kept floating something must be done and done quickly, I grabbed an old musket that chanced to be standing in the corner of the store, and with my best speed I made for that flagstaff. My great-grandfathers had both served with Washington at Brandywine and Valley Forge, and my grandfather with Jackson at New Orleans, and I could't stand by and see the grand old banner disgracefully lowered by a drunken rabble of rebel sympathizers. As I ran swiftly forward I called frequently to their leader to stop, but he paid no attention to me. Knowing that nearly all men carried pistols in those days, and that these men were made desperate by drink, I determined to have the first shot. I took a quick aim and drew the trigger. The cap burst clear, but no report followed. Then there was a race between me and their leader for the flagstaff (all the rest stopped when the cap burst). We met at the flagstaff, and just as he was about to cut the halyards to lower the flag, my gun went off in a different way (it didn't snap that time), and the barrel brought down on his head proved more effective than the bullet which refused to leave the barrel. "Well, he laid down sudden like, and as I now had time to draw my revolver, I informed the mob that I would shoot the first man that attempted to haul down that flag before sundown. That settled it. Friends removed my man to the store, and many Union men gathered to my assistance, which had the effect of stopping any further demonstrations in that direction. At the going down of the sun, we lowered the flag, cheering as we did so, and laid it away with the honor we considered to be due the 'flag of the brave and the emblem of the free.'"