Mr. Witzel sat straight up on the cot. For an instant he was still dazed with sleep and did not seem to know where he was; then a look of joy spread over his face and he jumped from the cot and, with both hands extended, moved toward Detective Gubb. "Superb!" he exclaimed. "A perfect specimen! Wonderfully preserved!" "Go back!" said Philo Gubb sternly. "This article is a loaded pistol gun, prepared for momentary explosion at any time at all. Go back!" "Remarkable!" cried Mr. Witzel joyously. "A superb specimen. Let me see it. Let me look at it." He walked up to the gun and peered into its muzzle with one eye. He bent his head to read the engraving on the top of the barrel. "A real Briggs & Bolton 53-1/2 caliber, muzzle-loading, 1854!" he exclaimed rapturously. Mr. Gubb pushed him away with one hand. "Go back there into range," he said sternly. "In shooting I aim to kill, but not to blow into particles of pieces." "But, my dear sir!" exclaimed Mr. Witzel. "Do you know what you have there?" "It's a pistol gun," said Philo Gubb. "If you don't stand back, I'll shoot you anyway." "It's a Briggs & Bolton," said Mr. Witzel. "That's what it is. It is the only well-preserved specimen of Briggs & Bolton I ever saw." Mr. Gubb shook off the hand that clasped his arm. "I don't care what it is," said Mr. Gubb. "It's a pistol gun, and it's bung full of powder and bullet, and when I point it at you I mean that if you make a move I'm a-going to shoot." "And I don't care what you mean," said Mr. Witzel. "It's a Briggs & Bolton, and I warn you that you have that gun so full of powder that if you pull that trigger you'll blow it to bits and ruin the only perfect specimen of that gun I ever saw!" "And I tell _you_," said Philo Gubb sternly, "that I can't shoot you whilst you're rubbing your nose right into this gun. Go back there where I can shoot you." "I won't!" said Mr. Witzel angrily. Philo Gubb was slow to anger, but he was sorely pressed now, and his temper failed him. "Look here," he said to Mr. Witzel. "If you don't go back where I can get a shot at you, I'll--I'll smack you on the face." "If you shoot off that gun, and bust it," said Mr. Witzel, with equal anger, "I'll--I'll hit you on the head." "Go back!" cried Philo Gubb menacingly. "One!" "I'll give you fifty dollars for that gun, just as she is," said Mr. Witzel. "Two!" said Mr. Gubb. "Sixty dollars!" said Mr. Witzel. "Th--" said the paper-hanger detective, stepping backward to get room to sight along the long barrel. Unfortunately the trunk was just behind him and as he stepped back he tripped over it and fell backward, doubling up like a jack-knife. But he kept his presence of mind. The long barrel of the Briggs & Bolton protruded from between the soles of Philo Gubb's feet in Mr. Witzel's direction. "Hands up!" he said. Instantly Mr. Witzel raised his hands in the air. "I'll give you seventy dollars," he said.