The first man I struck was Blenkhorn, who ran the meat market. He was considered the meanest man in town. I had make up my mind to start with a good, tough customer, because I wanted to give the new plan a thorough test, and I felt that if I could sell to a tough one I could sell to anybody. Well, the toughest customer I could think of was Blenkhorn, so I started on him. You see, I had my courage back. Well, I went into his store. Blenkhorn nodded to me. "Hello, Black," he said. "Hello, Mr. Blenkhorn," I returned. "How many pencils do you use in a year here?" "Pencils? I don't know, I'm sure, but I think my people eat 'em. I'm everlastingly buying 'em." "Suppose I could tell you a way to make them last about twice as long." "H'm! If you can tell me how to make these people more careful with pencils, I'll be mighty glad to know it." "Well, I'll show you," and here I put my sharpener on the counter. "You know," I said, "when a man sharpens a pencil what a lot of wood and lead he cuts away?" "Cuts away? Why, here they hack 'em all to pieces! But what's that contraption?" "I'll show you. Just lend me a pencil." He passed over a pencil that looked as if the wood at the end had been bitten off, instead of cut off. Blenkhorn was watching my actions rather curiously. I put the pencil in the sharpener, gave it two or three turns, and out it came with the point nicely rounded and sharpened. "You notice," I said, "that it didn't cut away any of the lead at all, only the wood." "H'm," he returned, and then he walked away and came back with a half a dozen more pencils. "Let's see it sharpen some more." "Go ahead, try it yourself, Mr. Blenkhorn." I held the outfit firmly and he sharpened one after the other. "H'm," he said again. "How much is that thing?" "Only a dollar." "You can buy a lot of pencils for a dollar," he mused. "That's true," I replied, "but you'll save a lot of dollars by the use of this." I had got that from the chapter in the booklet headed: "Answers to objections." "Send me one of those, Black," said Blenkhorn. "I'll try it." "Thank you, Mr. Blenkhorn," I said. "By the way, do you want any butcher's supplies now. I have some mighty good knives." "No, I have all of those I want. Oh, the missis did tell me to go down to Stigler's to buy a good short-handled ax for splitting kindling." "I'll save you the trouble and send it down for you, right away." "How much are they worth?" "Dollar and a half." "The last one I got cost me only a dollar." "How long did it last?" "Not long. The blamed head kept coming off." "Well, I'll sell you one for $1.50, and guarantee the head won't come off, and if it does I'll replace it for you free of charge." Without further words, he went to the cash register, took out $2.50 and handed it to me, saying with a grin: "You're right after business, aren't you, Black? Good luck to you."