Chapter

 1       VI|         would have shouldered his gun, and, with five hundred
 2       IX|      motionless, leaning upon his gun.~ ~
 3       XI|     without rising, he lifted his gun, ready to take aim.~ ~It
 4       XI|      Martial had thrown aside his gun; he now rose and brushed
 5       XI|       glancing alternately at his gun and at Marie-Anne, “all
 6      XII|        leaped with the aid of his gun.~ ~He found a pleasure,
 7    XVIII|        the morning when, with his gun upon his shoulder, he crossed
 8    XVIII|     father’s house, and with this gun which I hold in my hand
 9      XXI|          forward, brandishing his gun.~ ~“We are wasting too much
10     XXII|         from the speaker with his gun in his hand. If a man had
11    XXIII|       paces from the muzzle of my gun. It was God who stayed my
12    XXIII|           Chanlouineau seized his gun, and brandishing it like
13     XXIV|         were fighting. Look at my gun; I have not fired a shot
14     XXIV|         leave in the court-yard a gun that certainly had not been
15     XXIV| Marie-Anne, he propped his loaded gun against the wall. It had
16   XXVIII|          I left the Reche with my gun upon my shoulder, and my
17     XLII|           sullenly along with his gun and glancing suspiciously
18     XLII|       then he paused, dropped his gun, and waited.~ ~Aunt Medea
19     XLII|    yourself!”~ ~He shouldered his gun and was moving away, when
20     XLII|          me.’ He was armed with a gun; he fired——”~ ~The marquis
21     XLII|        through the woods with his gun on his shoulder. He is frightful
22    XLIII|          to prowl around with his gun under his arm, and to sleep
23     XLIV|          laugh, then striking his gun heavily with his hand, he