"Tied up at the depot over there," and to avoid being questioned further, Matt began to move off.
"I think I can get a good store for you," went on Barberry, catching him by the arm.
"Thank you, but I would prefer to do my own hunting," returned the young auctioneer, still more coolly.
"Don't want anything to do with me, eh?" retorted the corn salve vender angrily.
"I don't want you to take your valuable time in transacting my business," returned Matt, and off he hurried, before Barberry could offer any reply.
"He and his partner are mighty independent chaps," grumbled the pretended doctor, as he gazed after Matt, with a scowl on his face. "I suppose he thinks himself above me because he has a horse and wagon. Well, maybe he won't be any better off than I am some day."
And, in far from a good humor, Paul Barberry resumed the sale of his so-styled wonderful corn cure, a preparation, by the way, which was of no value as a remedial agent.
Matt walked along for several blocks without running across any empty stores that would be suitable for holding sales. Most of the places were too small, and others were in out-of-the-way corners,
