I appreciate such a man as Whipper. Whatever it was he was doing he always dropped it, and met a salesman as if he was honestly pleased. I think that ought to offset a great many sins. I hope it will. I told him my little story and he looked as if he believed every word I said. Then he asked, in a very confidential tone “What is your best price on American bull-dogs?” “Two dollars and eighty-five cents.” “Phew! You are far out of the way, my dear boy, far out of the way. Did you see this last card of Reachum's? No? How could you? You are on the road. We now get two postals a day from Reachum, and I expect to see them coming oftener by and by. Tom, where's Reachum's last card?” “I don't know; I toss them in the waste basket when I come across them.” “Don't do it again; I want to make a collection of them in an album. So $2.85 is the best you can do?” Now, $2.85 was as well as any one could do, and we only had a margin of 10 per cent. to figure on. But I determined to cut a little, just for fun, and see what the upshot would be. So I said, “$2.85 is bottom everywhere, but I am going to make you a special price of $2.82 1/2.” “Tom,” said he turning to the desk, “What was that Shiverhim & Gaily man's price for bull-dogs?” “Two dollars and eighty cents.” I swore to myself that I would punch Blissam's head when I next met him in a good place. There was no getting even with him, let alone getting ahead of him. I dared not go below $2.80, sell or no sell, so I began to talk brand. “Two dollars and eighty cents is all the Lovell bull-dog ought to sell for,” I said: “in fact $2.75 is Reachum's price on them, but we are selling F.& W. goods, and can easily get 5 to 10 cents more for them.” “Will you sell me some of Lovell's at $2.75?” “I would if I had them, but we don't carry them. I'll make you the F. & W. at $2.80, and I shall catch thunder for doing that. But I want to sell you.” “To be sure; to be sure!” He said this as a man might humor a child, and as if he fully understood all that was in my mind. “Tom, do we need any bull-dogs?” “No, sir; got 50 on the way from Reachum at $2.70.” CHAPTER VI. I probably looked as disappointed as I felt, for Whipper's voice took on a very sympathetic tone. “You could not touch $2.70?” he asked. “No, sir.” I felt like adding, “I can't touch anything; I'm going home.” “What is your price on cartridges?” “Combination price; same as every one else.” “Is this your first trip?” “Yes, and my last. I'm not cut out for the road. I don't suppose I could sell you anything even if you wanted it; I'm not a success.” “Pooh; pooh! I've been on the road myself; it is not always fair sailing, and it is not always foul. Keep a stiff upper lip.” Yes, keep a stiff upper lip, when goods were being sold at cost all around you! I was not built that way. Just then the book-keeper, Tom, handed a memo to Whipper and he turned to me. “Have you Quickenbush rifles?”