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Read Ebook: The High School Boys' Canoe Club by Hancock H Irving Harrie Irving
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Ebook has 1903 lines and 49674 words, and 39 pages
"You see what this animal is for yourselves, gentlemen," declared the auctioneer. "We don't need to have this sleek little animal's paces shown. We are in a hurry to get through. Who opens with twenty dollars?"
"He is a handsome little animal, isn't he?" exclaimed Dick Prescott, crowding forward and gazing at the pony with glistening eyes.
"I wish I had the money to buy him," whispered Dave Darrin.
"Maybe I couldn't use that kind of a cut-down horse!" glowed Tom Reade, while Harry and Dan looked on longingly.
"That's what the muckers are here after!" thought Fred Ripley, who had been watching them closely. "Now, no matter how much money they may think they have, I'll show them how easy it is for a fellow of my financial standing to step in and get the chestnut pony away from them!"
"Who starts the bidding with twenty dollars?" demanded the auctioneer.
"Ten," finally responded a man in the crowd.
"Thank you. But, gentlemen, ten dollars is a shame for a beautiful animal like this. Who makes it twenty? Start it right up now!"
Presently the bidding had reached sixteen dollars. Dick and his chums had crowded still closer to the pony, looking on with lively interest.
"Here's where I sting Prescott and his crew!" muttered Fred Ripley under his breath. Then, aloud, he called:
"Twenty!"
"Thank you," smiled the auctioneer, nodding in Ripley's direction. "Here is a young man of sound judgment and a good idea of money values, as his manner and his whole appearance testify."
"Someone hold Rip, or he'll burst," laughed Greg Holmes in Dick's ear.
But Fred thought the chums were conferring as to how far they could go with what means the six of them might have at hand.
"They will get going soon," thought Fred gleefully.
Just then Dick Prescott piped up:
"Twenty-two!"
"Twenty-two? Thank you," bowed the auctioneer. "Another young gentleman of the finest judgment. Who says twenty-five?"
"Twenty-three," offered Fred.
"Twenty-five," called Prescott promptly.
An instant after Dick had made this bid he felt heartily ashamed of himself. He hadn't intended to buy the pony, and didn't have the money. He had obeyed a sudden instinct to tease Fred Ripley, but now Dick wished he hadn't done it.
"Twenty-six!" called young Ripley.
The auctioneer looked at Prescott, but the latter, already abashed at his own conduct, made no further offer.
"Twenty-eight!" called a man in the crowd, who knew that the wealthy lawyer's son usually got whatever he wanted very badly. This new bidder thought he saw a chance to get the pony, then later to force Fred to pay a still higher price for the animal.
"Thirty!" called Ripley, with a sidelong glance at Dick & Co.
"Did I hear you offer thirty-five?" queried the auctioneer, singling out Dick Prescott.
But Dick remained mute. However, in the next instant Greg Holmes, ere Prescott could stop him, blurted out with:
"Thirty-two!"
"Thirty-four!" called Ripley briskly.
Greg opened his mouth, but Dick nudged him. "Don't bid, Greg. You'd feel cheap if you had to take the pony and couldn't produce the money," Dick admonished him.
"Thirty-five!" called the man who had raised the bidding before.
"Thirty-six," from Ripley.
"Thirty-eight!" called the man.
"Thirty-nine!" offered Fred, though he was beginning to perspire freely.
"Forty!" promptly offered the man.
"Forty-one!" said Fred.
And there it hung. After three minutes more of hard work on the auctioneer's part the pony went to Ripley at forty-one dollars.
"I don't know what my father will say to me for this," groaned the lawyer's son. "But, anyway, Prescott and his crew didn't get the chestnut pony, and this is the last piece of live stock, so there's none left for them."
He cast a triumphant look in the direction of those whom he termed "the mucker boys."
"Rip was bidding to keep us from getting a look-in!" whispered Tom Reade gleefully.
"Step up and pay your money!" ordered the auctioneer. "Don't keep us waiting all day."
"Won't a deposit do?" demanded Fred, coming forward.
"Yes; we'll take fifteen dollars, and hold your purchase until one hour after the sale closes," replied the auctioneer. "Then, if you don't come along fast with the remainder, your deposit will be forfeited."
"I'll raise the money all right," drawled Ripley, with an important air, as he passed up three five dollar bills. "Give me a receipt for this, please."
"You've money enough there to pay it all," said the auctioneer.
"Yes; but I may bid on something else," Fred replied.
"Good luck to you," laughed the auctioneer.
Presently along came a miscellaneous lot of the weapons that had been used by cowboys and Indians connected with the show. The auctioneer tried to close these out in one lot, but there were no bids.
Several of the younger men did brisk, but not high bidding for the rifles. These were disposed of.
Then tomahawks were offered for sale, singly. The first ones offered went at an average of twenty-five cents each. At last Dan Dalzell secured one for a nickel, paid his money and proudly tucked his purchase under his arm.
"Bring out the grand war canoe!" called the auctioneer at last.
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