All those Walkers and Pattersons, oh my.
My grandmother's BIL was a an antique gun "scrounger", for lack of a better term. He traveled around east central Pennsylvania during the Depression, going door to door at farms and villages asking if they had any old guns they wanted to sell. His standard rate was $1 for percussion Colts. When he accumulated a trunk full he drove them to to a dealer in Philadelphia who gave him $1.50-$2 apiece for them. I don't know his pricing structure for muskets, early Winchesters, what have you- my dad who told me the story didn't remember anything but the Colt prices. He done "r-u-n-n-o-f-t" sometime before I was born.
My great grandfather, who was the local "country gunsmith" advised the guy about quality/repairs needed, and skimmed the good stuff before Uncle Frank made the journey down to Philly. You should have seen his collection- by the early 60's when he (great gramps) was nearing 90 years old he was totally blind but still had his gun collection, racks of delectable long guns and cases of pistols, and he knew where each one was. He held court in his "man cave" and if anyone had played a prank and switched guns in the rack, he knew it and would get all bent out of shape. He was the guy from whom I learned to cuss in Pennsylvania Dutch on those occasions. He cashed out before he died, and only saved a couple guns to pass down to his two sons and grandkids. My dad got a Burnside carbine, and I still have it.
And y'all wonder why I'm a gun nut...
