Once again the man sought to strike Matt, and this time he succeeded. The blow landed upon the young auctioneer's shoulder, and caused him to cry out with pain.
At that instant the door opened, and Andy entered the store, carrying on his arm the new overcoat he had just purchased.
"What's the matter, Matt?" he cried, in quick alarm.
"Help me, Andy! This drunken man is trying to knock me out with that stick!"
The senior partner of the firm needed no second call for assistance. Without hesitation he flung the overcoat on a packing case, and rushing up to Matt's assailant, caught him by the collar and dragged him from behind the counter.
"Let me—me go!" spluttered the tipsy individual. "Let go my collar!"
"Don't you do it, Andy!" and Matt sprang to his feet as quickly as he could.
"I don't intend to," was Andy's determined answer. "What's the meaning of this trouble?"
"He wouldn't let me look at the pistols," whined the tipsy man, collapsing now that he saw he was powerless to do any more injury.
"I didn't think he was in fit condition to look at anything," put in Matt.
