Many years ago my elder brother finally convinced my eldest brother to let him borrow his (then!) pride and joy - his Winchester 1894 .44 Mag lever action - to go pig hunting at night. So after giving many sworn oaths and assurances that his darling .44 Mag wouldn't come to any harm or disrepute (and that he'd also return the rifle!), my elder brother with a mate in tow, gleefully departed into the outback with it.
On that very first night as luck would have it, he had a head separation. This happened at night and out in the densest scrub in the middle of nowhere. So, after a long trudge, muttering obscenities all the way back to camp, and with a now useless rifle, my brother lit upon the idea to extract the offending portion of the case himself and go back to pig hunting. Superb hunting keeness - but bloody stupid given the environment and availability of tools!! Remember, too, that what follows - as related by his mate - was done at night, and in the field, with the aid of a 2-cell torch.
Of course to extract that portion of separated case is impossible to do without the correct tools and equipment being wielded by a competent gunsmith, but my dear brother - being an eternal optimist - has always relished a challenge!! Oh, and btw - did you know he's NOT mechanically minded in the least? (Starting to spot the flaws in his "cunning plan"?)
So in the spirit of "to strike while the iron's hot" he began by hunting around to find something of a suitable length and thickness to insert down the barrel and "tap out" the offending portion of case. Now both my brothers were pretty good pool players back then, and it just so happened this brother had one of his old pool cues behind the seat of his ute (can you see where this is going??).
Roughly breaking the cue at .44 Mag calibre my brother then inserted the cue down the barrel and - yep!! You guessed it!! - as he tapped it further down with a hammer, the cue became progressively more and more jammed. I'm told that by torch light, the muzzle resembled an umbrella stand with a length of the now solidly jammed pool cue sticking out of the barrel like a mushroomed carrot!! (Much later I asked him why did he do this: his reply was that he thought that as the thicker the cue got at the muzzle, it would simply be shaved off by the muzzle - like some sort of cutting tool!! Actual events however conclusively disproved his ill-thought out pet theory!!).
So! It's now about 1am, pitch black in the middle of nowhere, with the now completely useless Winchester 1894 .44 Mag looking stupid and forlorn with 3" of pool cue sticking out of the muzzle. Any one else, waaaayyyyy back at that point when the head separation occurred, would've simply packed it in and gone home - but thats not how my brother thinks!! Remember - he LOVES a challenge!!
Reaching into the back of his ute he then pulled out the tool box. A quick shine around in it and he found all the tools he needed: a couple of screwdrivers and pliers. (Yep! This is getting worse - and as God as my judge - it's ALL TRUE!!)
So having failed to extract the head separation from one direction, my brother was determined to tackle the bastard from the other!! So with a heart-felt: "Let's start by taking this f@%king thing apart!!" - he embarked on Round Two of the operation.
Using the bonnet of his ute, he began unscrewing this and that until he'd had all the finely machined pieces scattered all over the bonnet. (Did I mention that he's never actually disassembled a lever action before?) Now the ute bonnet is slightly curved, and with their leaning on it and pieces left in darkness, screws and other vital, but very small, parts began trickling off, straight down into the sand at crucially important moments while struggling with the rifle. With exclamations of: "Oh Christ!!" interspersed with: "FFS!! Stop that screw falling off!!" - followed by wild flashes of the torch as it followed a shiny little errant screw trickling off into the abyss - you can appreciate that not much progress was eventually made from this direction either!!
Finally admitting defeat, my brother gathered up all the remaining little bits and pieces and dropped them into an empty plastic, crumb-lined, bread bag. Brooding silently, I'm told it was a very quiet, but tense, drive back to my eldest brother's home.
Cheerfully fronting up at my eldest brother's front door at sunrise, my elder brother simply handed back the rifle that now jangled in crumb-encrusted bits and pieces in a plastic bag. With a doff of his hat and a "Thanks mate!!", he got back in his ute and left! My eldest brother was stunned speechless at what had happened to his pride and joy, and at my elder brother's cheek!! Neither did he ever offer to pay the gunsmith to repair, replace lost pieces, or to reassemble the rifle. But the gunsmith (a family friend) reminisced years later it stood out as one of the most memorable jobs he'd ever done - mainly for the comedy value of events alone!
That was the last time he ever loaned ANYTHING to our brother, and this story is still retold with much laughter in our family! I hope this makes a worthy addition to your research.