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?"

"I have my reasons."

"You're awfully smart, boy; most too smart to live! But I am going to
have what I want, understand that!"

With unsteady steps the man walked to the rear end of the counter and
came around to the inner side. He was met by Matt, who, becoming
alarmed, had picked up the butt-end of a fishing-rod with which to
defend himself.

"You can't come back here, sir."

"Oh, yes, I can."

"I say you cannot. The best thing you can do is to go elsewhere."

"What! do you threaten me?"

"I want you to understand that you cannot come back here. I told you I
did not wish to sell you a pistol, and that ought to be enough."

"Want to fight, boy?" demanded the man, scowling savagely and doubling
up his fists.

"No, I do not wish to fight. I merely wish to be left alone."

Matt had hardly spoken when the tipsy man hurled himself forward,
intending to catch the young auctioneer by the throat. But Matt was
too quick for him. He stepped backward, and the consequence was that
the man went headlong, striking the floor with such force that every
article in the store shook and rattled.

"You--you young villain!" panted the tipsy man, as he attempted to
rise to his feet. "What do you mean by such conduct? Help me up, do
you hear?"

"I hear, but I am not going to assist you until you promise to leave
at once," returned Matt.

"I'm going to look at those pistols first," growled the intoxicated
one, and by holding fast to the counter he managed, but not without
much difficulty, to rise to his feet once more. "That's a fine way to
treat a gentleman!"

"It was your own fault. You had no business to try to catch me by the
throat."

"And you had no business to be saucy, understand, boy, saucy?