means indicative of his
feelings. Now that he could look closely at him he found that the
storekeeper wasn't frightened enough, and that his speech had not
accomplished half as much as he meant to have it. "You don't seem to be
right peart this mornin'," he continued. "What's the matter of ye?"

"Nothing whatever," answered Mr. Bailey. "I'm as gay as a lark.
Something wanted?"

"I reckon," replied Bud. "I want the same things you gin that there
nigger a minute ago--a dress an' a pair of shoes for my ole woman."

"Got any money to pay for 'em?"

"Not jest this minute, but I shall have plenty this evening, an' then
mebbe I'll--"

"Can't help it," said Mr. Bailey, shaking his head.

"Wont you trust me?"

"No, I won't. I told you so the other day, and when I say a thing of
that sort I mean it."

"Do you give credit to a nigger before my face an' eyes, an' then refuse
it to a white gentleman?" shouted Bud. "What do you do that-a-way for?"

"I run my business to suit myself," answered Mr. Bailey, without the
least show of irritation. "If you don't like it, go somewhere else with
your trade. I don't want it, any way."

"You think a nigger better'n a white man, do ye?" yelled Bud, growing
red in the face. "What do you say to that, boys? Look a here," he added.
"Mebbe you don't know who I am. I've got the power an' the will, too, to
turn you houseless an' homeless into the street before you see the sun
rise agin."

"I'll make moonlight shine through you while you are doing it," said the
old man boldly.

"You will?" Bud brought his fist down upon the counter with tremendous
force, and then he dived down into his pocket and brought out a handful
of bullets, which he placed before the storekeeper. "Do you see them? I
want to warn ye that they was molded a-purpose to be shot into traitors
like yerself; an' I brung 'em along to show ye--"

"Take 'em off the counter. I've just dusted it," interrupted Mr. Bailey;
and with the words he hit the bullets a blow with his brush that sent
them in every direction.

Bud Goble was astounded, and so were his friends, who had never dreamed
that there was so much spirit in that little, dried-up man. The former
looked at him a moment, and then he looked at the bullets that were
rolling about on the floor.

"Come around yer an' pick 'em up, the very last one of 'em, an' say yer
sorry ye done it, an' that you'll never do the like agin, or I'll take
ye up by the heels an' mop the fl