"I don't want any better, unless it's at less price. Wilson's sell
themselves."

The young man looked crestfallen and soon went his way; I took up my
story, but instead of asking about this, that or the other article I
handed him my price-list and asked him to look it through. He
stretched himself on his lounge, and taking the book was about to open
it, but stopped to ask, "Have you got a cigar about you?"




CHAPTER XI.


When I had given Mr. Harris a cigar and he had lit it, and when he had
once more resumed his horizontal position on the lounge, I proceeded
to take his order. He was an easy man to sell. The stock was low on
some of my goods, and he had a favorable impression of my house, so he
ordered easily, saying but little about prices until we came to
cartridges.

"Whose cartridges are you selling?" he asked sharply.

"We handle both the U. M. C. and Winchester."

"No Phoenix?"

"We don't keep them in stock, but I can get them for you if you prefer
them."