A version of the double nine was my second handgun, about age 14. I would not even try to guess the number of rounds through it. I haven't shot it in a while, but I still have it.
To tell how times have changed, I made a set of walnut grips for it in high school shop class. Each morning during the project, I would get on the bus, hand the cased revolver to the driver. Arriving at school, he would hand the case to me and I would drop it off at the principal's office. I would pick it up at the principal's office and take it to shop class to work on the grips, then drop it off after class. Reverse at the end of the day, repeat the next day until the project was done. Of course, this was all worked out with parents and principal beforehand, and no ammo allowed at school. One day when I went to the office to pick it up, the principal had it out examining it. Today this wouldn't happen, but it did in about 1973.
The principal's predecessor probably wouldn't have allowed it, nor likely his successor. He was a great guy. I once had my pocket knife taken by my history teacher, who gave it to the principal. Not because I had a knife at school, but because I had it out during class. Different times. For a few weeks, the principal would see me in the hall, and take out the knife. He'd say " I really like this knife." One day he offered me $5 for it and I took it. Through the years, when he'd see me, he'd say, " I still have the knife."
I sang at his daughter's wedding. At the rehearsal dinner, when we opened the wedding party gifts, mine was that old red bone Case XX, with the main blade worn down to a needle.