ll a gun like this un," persisted the scowling
owner. "Ye must have a hull passel o' tenderfeet a-comin' in yere."

The clerk frowned and his voice became slightly edged. "The reputation
of Hawkens' is a valuable asset. It was acquired in two ways: honest
goods and fair dealing. Most tenderfeet ask us for a gun that we can
recommend; we cannot recommend that rifle. Do you care to look at one
that will not shoot through the palm of your extended hand after it gets
hot from rapid shooting?"

"I got ye thar, pardner!" retorted the customer. "I done that with a
poker. Ye don't seem anxious ter do no business."

"Our stock and my time are at your disposal," replied the clerk; "but we
cannot take that Colt in part payment."

"Wall, ye don't have ter: I know a man as will; an' he ain't all
swelled up, neither. You an' yer rifles kin go ter h--l together!" He
jerked the Colt from the counter and stamped out, cursing at every step,
and slammed the door behind him so hard that it shook the shop.
Thoroughly angered, he strode down the street and had gone a block
before he remembered that he was to keep watch on the shop. Cursing
anew, he wheeled and went back on the other side of the street and
stopped at the corner of a ramshackle saloon.

The clerk was taking down another rifle when the door opened again and
he wheeled aggressively, but his frown was swiftly wiped out by a smile.

The newcomer was somewhere in the twenties, stood six feet two in his
moccasins, and had the broad, sloping shoulders that tell of great
strength. He was narrow waisted and sinewy and walked with a step light
and springy. Dressed in buckskin from the soles of his feet to the top
of his head, he had around his waist a broad belt, from which hung
powder horn, bullet pouch, a container for caps, a buckskin bag for
spare patches, a bullet mold, and a heavy, honest skinning knife. Slung
from a strap over one shoulder hung his "possible" bag, containing
various small articles necessary to his calling. In his hand was a
double-barreled rifle which he seemed to be excited about.

"Mr. Jarvis!" he exclaimed, offering the weapon for inspection. "Tell me
what you think of this?"

The clerk chuckled and his eyes lighted with pleasure. "I've seen it, or
its twin, before. English, fine sights, shooting about thirty-six balls
to the pound. They're pointed, aren't they? Ah-ha! I thought so." He
took the gun and examined it carefully. "Just what I've been tryin