“That!” cried Schaunard. “Why, what on earth could you want with such an obsolete weapon as that?”
“Tell me—does this thing hit harder, gun for gun—not weight for weight, mind you—but gun for gun—than that double-barrel you are holding in your hands?”
“Oh, yes,” said Schaunard, “it hits harder, just as a cannon would hit harder, but——”
“I’ll have her,” said Adams. “I’ve taken a fancy to her. See here, Captain Berselius is paying for my guns; they are his, part of the expedition—I want this as my own, and I’ll pay you for her out of my own pocket. How much is she?”
Schaunard, whose fifty years of trading had explained to him the fact that when an American takes a whim into his head it is best for all parties to let him have his own way, ran his fingers through his beard.
“The thing has no price,” said he. “It is a curiosity. But if you must have it—well, I will let you have it for two hundred francs.”
“Done,” said Adams. “Have you any cartridges?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Schaunard. “Heaps. That is to say, I have the old cartridges, and I can have a couple of hundred of them emptied and re-filled and percussioned. Ah, well, monsieur, you must have your own way. Armand, take the gun; have it attended to and packed. And now that monsieur has his play-toy,” finished the old man, with one of his silent little laughs, “let us come to business.”
They did, and nearly an hour was spent whilst the American chose a double hammerless-ejector cordite rifle and a .256 sporting Mannlicher, for Schaunard was a man who, when he took an interest in a customer, could be very interesting.
When business was concluded Schaunard gave his customer various tips as to the treatment of guns. “And now,” said he, opening the door as Adams was taking his departure, “I will give you one more piece of advice about this expedition. It is a piece of private advice, and I will trust you not to tell the Captain that I gave it to you.”