“I shall observe all proper caution, Solomon,” the judge assured him sweetly.

“Judge, may I try ’em some day?” asked Hannibal.

“Yes, my boy, that’s part of a gentleman’s education.”

“Well, look out you don’t shoot him before his education begins,” snapped Mahaffy.

“Where did you buy ’em?” Hannibal was dodging about the judge, the better to follow the operation of loading.

“At the gunsmith’s, dear lad.  It occurred to me that we required small arms.  If you’ll stand quietly at my elbow and not hop around, you’ll relieve Mr. Mahaffy’s apprehension.”

“I declare, Price, you need a guardian, if ever a man did!” cried Mahaffy, in a tone of utter exasperation.

“Why, Solomon?”

“Why?—­they are absolutely useless.  It was a waste of good money that you’ll be sorry about.”

“Bless you, Solomon—­they ain’t paid for!” said the judge, with a thick little chuckle.

“I didn’t do you the injustice to suppose they were; but you haven’t any head for business; aren’t you just that much nearer the time when not a soul here will trust you?  That’s just like you, to plunge ahead and use up your credit on gimcracks!” Mahaffy prided himself on his acquaintance with the basic principles of economics.

“I can sell ’em again,” observed the judge placidly.

“For less than half what they are worth!—­I never knew so poor a manager!”

The pistols were soon loaded, and the judge turned to Hannibal.  “I regretted that you were not with me out at Boggs’ this evening, Hannibal; you would have enjoyed seeing me try these weapons there.  Now carry a candle into the kitchen and place it on the table.”

Mahaffy laughed contemptuously, but was relieved to know the purpose to which the judge had devoted the afternoon.

“What aspersion is rankling for utterance within you now, Solomon?” said the judge tolerantly.  Assuming a position that gave him an unobstructed view across the two rooms, he raised the pistol in his hand and discharged it in that brief instant when he caught the candle’s flame between the notches of the sight, but he failed to snuff the candle, and a look of bitter disappointment passed over his face.  He picked up the other pistol.  “This time—­” he muttered under his breath.

“Try blowing it out try the snuffers!” jeered Mahaffy.

“This time!” repeated the judge, unheeding him, and as the pistol-shot rang out the light vanished.  “By Heaven, I did it!” roared the judge, giving way to an uncontrollable burst of feeling.  “I did it—­and I can ’do it again—­light the candle, Hannibal!”

He began to load the pistols afresh with feverish haste, and Mahaffy, staring at him in amazement, saw that of a sudden the sweat was dripping from him.  But the judge’s excitement prevented his attempting another shot at once, twice his hand was raised, twice it was lowered, the third time the pistol cracked and the candle’s flame was blown level, fluttered for a brief instant, and went out.