elt that if the gun went
off he would be utterly and disastrously blown to flinders. Mr. Gubb
pointed it at the sleeping Mr. Witzel, using both hands, and sighting
along the barrel.

"Wake up!" he exclaimed sternly.

Mr. Witzel sat straight up on the cot. For an instant he was still
dazed with sleep and did not seem to know where he was; then a look of
joy spread over his face and he jumped from the cot and, with both
hands extended, moved toward Detective Gubb.

"Superb!" he exclaimed. "A perfect specimen! Wonderfully preserved!"

"Go back!" said Philo Gubb sternly. "This article is a loaded pistol
gun, prepared for momentary explosion at any time at all. Go back!"

"Remarkable!" cried Mr. Witzel joyously. "A superb specimen. Let me
see it. Let me look at it."

He walked up to the gun and peered into its muzzle with one eye. He
bent his head to read the engraving on the top of the barrel.

"A real Briggs & Bolton 53-1/2 caliber, muzzle-loading, 1854!" he
exclaimed rapturously.

Mr. Gubb pushed him away with one hand.

"Go back there into range," he said sternly. "In shooting I aim to
kill, but not to blow into particles of pieces."

"But, my dear sir!" exclaimed Mr. Witzel. "Do you know what you have
there?"

"It's a pistol gun," said Philo Gubb. "If you don't stand back, I'll
shoot you anyway."

"It's a Briggs & Bolton," said Mr. Witzel. "That's what it is. It is
the only well-preserved specimen of Briggs & Bolton I ever saw."

Mr. Gubb shook off the hand that clasped his arm.

"I don't care what it is," said Mr. Gubb. "It's a pistol gun, and it's
bung full of powder and bullet, and when I point it at you I mean that
if you make a move I'm a-going to shoot."

"And I don't care what you mean," said Mr. Witzel. "It's a Briggs &
Bolton, and I warn you that you have that gun so full of powder that
if you pull that trigger you'll blow it to bits and ruin the only
perfect specimen of that gun I ever saw!"

"And I tell _you_," said Philo Gubb sternly, "that I can't shoot you
whilst you're rubbing your nose right into this gun. Go back there
where I can shoot you."

"I won't!" said Mr. Witzel angrily.

Philo Gubb was slow to anger, but he was sorely pressed now, and his
temper failed him.

"Look here," he said to Mr. Witzel. "If you don't go back where I can
get a shot at you, I'll--I'll smack you on the face."

"If you shoot off that gun, and bust it," said Mr. Witzel, with equal
anger, "I'll--I'll