When the gun went off, I may not have flinched. But I sure wanted want to. There were, as the photo above shows, two clouds of smoke. The first came from the flint striking the frizzen, setting off the spark needed to ignite the powder in the pan. The powder burned and smoked there for a second, as if thinking things over, before it persuaded the touch hole to let it into the chamber to ignite the powder that sent the ball down the barrel.