“Oh, yes. St. Louis is going to run the country on hardware hereafter and on guns. Simmons' New England man says they do a big business there; dealers buy bills of $8.87 down. Their New York office isn't open yet, but it's coming; they want Sam Haines as manager, or J. B. Sargent. They do things up big down there.”
“How many M. & H. revolvers can I send you?”
“Don't want any now; just asked out of curiosity.”
This was discouraging, but I opened my price-book at A, and called his attention to every item in it, but to everything received the same answer, “Got it.” I began to get desperate.
“Look here,” said Bingham, “you seem to be excited, young man. I like to see a man work, but if a fellow don't want anything, he don't, and that's the end of it. I never bought a dollar from your house, and your prices are no better than others.”
But I wanted an order. Whether he needed goods or not was no concern of mine; I wanted an order and I was determined to get one if such a thing were possible. Finally I struck Flobert rifles. “Look here,” I said, “I have a special price on Flobert's target rifles—$2.10 by the case—but I will give you a cut even on that; I will make them $2, and now I want you to give me an order.”
“Two dollars,” he said, as if turning it over in his mind; “$2, eh? I've a mind to go and see Madley with you.”
“Who is Madley?”
“He's a clothing man, and chain lightning about offering gifts to purchasers. He has run cows, watches, pianos, and lager beer; maybe he'd take hold of rifles.”
“Very well,” said I, “let's us go see him. What price shall I quote him?”