One of the old boys in our Adirondack deer camp had one. Frank Canco was his name. He was my uncle's father-in-law and he was a pretty rough character. Frank was well into his late 70's when I first met him and he mostly stayed in camp keeping the fires going and hot grub on the stove. His cartridge belt loops were filled with ancient rounds of mixed origin and that old Savage had seen many, many seasons in the mountains with indifferent care. It functioned well enough for him to kill a nice 10 pointer off the front porch the last season he ever hunted with us... Old Frank was then into his 80's and pretty proud of that buck... he tied that beautiful deer onto the trunk of his spotless Chrysler Imperial and drove it home, then around town to show it off... Frank took pneumonia just before Christmas that season and never saw the new year.