“I should be very glad of your advice. No, I have not had much experience in big-game shooting. I have shot bears, that’s all——”
“Armand!” cried Schaunard, and a pale-faced young man came forward from the back part of the shop.
“Open me this case.”
Armand opened a case, and the deft hand of the old man took down a double-barrelled cordite rifle, light-looking and of exquisite workmanship.
“These are the guns we shoot elephants with nowadays,” said Schaunard, handling the weapon lovingly. “A child could carry it, and there is nothing living it will not kill.” He laughed softly to himself, and then directed Armand to bring forward an elephant gun of the old pattern. In an instant the young man returned, staggering under the weight of the immense rifle, shod with a heel of india-rubber an inch thick.
Adams laughed, took the thing up with one hand, and raised it to his shoulder as though it had been a featherweight.
“Ah!” said he, “here’s a gun worth shooting with.”
Schaunard looked on with admiration at the giant handling the gigantic gun.
“Oh, for you,” said he, “it’s all very well. Ma foi, but you suit one another, you both are of another day.”
“God bless you,” said Adams, “you can pick me up by the bushel in the States. I’m small. Say, how much is this thing?”