“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, 289 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? I never allow any one to be saucy to me. Now them pistols, and no more nonsense.”
Instead of replying, Matt tried to push the man out from behind the counter. The young auctioneer thought that if he could get him out near the door he would then be able to summon assistance and have the tipsy individual taken away.