would-be customer, as he gave a lurch against the counter. "I want a pistol; best you got, understand?"
"I understand, but I haven't any pistol for you," Matt replied steadily. He wished Andy would come back.
"What! do you mean to say you refuse to sell me a pistol?" howled the man savagely. "Let me tell you, boy, that I have ample means for reimbursing you."
"I haven't any pistol for you, sir. You had better go elsewhere."
"Won't go, understand, I won't go! Let me see them pistols in that show-case, and be quick about it!"
Matt was now growing alarmed. The man was just intoxicated enough to be thoroughly ugly, and might try to do him harm should he refuse the request which had been made. Yet he realized more than ever that the man was not the one to be trusted with a firearm.
"I do not care to show you the pistols," was all the young auctioneer could say. "You must go elsewhere if you wish one."
"Won't sell me one, hey?"
"No, I will not."
"Why?"
