“Well, I dunno exactly,” said old Gabe. “With a pea-shooter.”
Philo Gubb closed his notebook, and slipped it into his pocket.
“If all you was after was to get that two dollars and ten cents, you might have got it without wastin’ so much of my time,” he said reproachfully.
But old Gabe did not move.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Maybe I’m a fool,” Gubb said bitterly, “but I ain’t no such fool as to think anybody is murdering nobody with a pea-shooter.”
“Was you ever shot with a cannon?” asked old Gabe calmly.
“No, nor nobody ever tried to murder me with a pea-shooter,” said Philo Gubb.
“If you ever was shot by a thirteen-inch cannon ball,” said old Gabe, “you’d know it. When a thirteen-inch cannon ball hits you, there ain’t nothin’ left of you at all. But when a one-inch cannon ball hits you, you’ve got a chance to live a minute or two, maybe. That’s the difference between a thirteen-inch cannon ball shootin’ you, and a one-inch cannon ball shootin’ you. And a rifle ball is different, too.”