Buckshot

For protection, me Grandpa Joe kept a shotgun just inside the office door of the Shop. It never was used in self defense, though it almost was once.

A friend of me Pops, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, had stopped by the old barn for a visit. While he was there a group of unsavory looking fellows came down the alley which ran alongside the building. They looked dangerous, as if they might have had ill intent. 

Cloyce went into the office and grabbed the shotgun, reaching inside a desk drawer for the shells he knew were there. He didn't confront the thugs. He simply held the gun at the ready. Pops just kept working.

When the group had cleared the area Cloyce said, "Red (at one time people called me Pops Red because of his hair), you only got three shotgun shells."

"Yeah?" Dad asked in reply.

"There were four guys."

Pops put a hand on Cloyce's shoulder. "My friend, if you drop the first three and the fourth one keeps coming, give him the keys to the place."

There's something to be said for that.