The High School Boys Canoe Club | Page 2

& Co., that we may see just what
befell them.
"Pshaw! There comes Fred Ripley," exclaimed Harry Hazelton.
"And he probably has a few ten dollar bills in his pockets," remarked
Greg Holmes, rather enviously. "He will buy something."
Fred Ripley, as readers of "The High School Freshmen" remember, was
the son of a wealthy local lawyer, and a bitter enemy to Dick Prescott
and his friends.
"Fred just came here to buy something and then look at us with his
superior smile," grunted Hazelton. "What do you say if we all walk
away before the bidding begins?"
"Then Rip would grin," returned Tom Reade. "He'd know just why we
went away. I came here to see what's going to happen, and I won't be
chased away from here by Fred Ripley."
"Let's see if Fred can have any real fun with us," proposed Dick, with a
quiet smile.
"He can have fun enough with us, if he guesses why we are really

here," Dave Darrin uttered resentfully. "Ripley seems to think that
money is made and supplied to him just in order that he may rub gall
and wormwood into those whom he doesn't like!"
Fred kept well away from Dick & Co., though the six boys saw that he
occasionally sent a covert look in their direction.
"Time to begin," said the deputy sheriff, after glancing at his watch.
Up to the platform jumped the auctioneer, bell in hand. Holding it with
both hands he again rang vigorously for a full minute. The net result
was to bring one shabby-looking man, two grammar school boys
without a cent of money, and three children of not over four years of
age into the lot.
"Ladies and gentlemen," began the auctioneer, in his glib tones, "we are
presenting to-day a most unusual opportunity. Prizes will be distributed
to many enterprising people of Gridley, though these prizes are all so
valuable that I trust none of them will go for the traditional 'song.' It is
seldom, indeed, in any community, however favored it may be in
general, that such a diversified lot of excellent things is put under the
hammer for purchase by discriminating buyers! As you all know,
Colonel W.P. Grundy's Great & Colossal Indian Exposition &
Aboriginal Life Delineations has met with one of the too-common
disasters of the road. This great show enterprise must now be sold out
in its entirety."
After an impressive pause, the silence was broken by a sob. Those in
the crowd who were curious enough to turn, beheld the colonel with a
handkerchief to his eyes, his shoulders heaving. Somehow the colonel's
noisy grief failed to excite the sympathy of those assembled. It was
suspected that the wrecked showman was playing for sympathy.
"Such a wealth of treasures is here offered," continued the auctioneer,
"that for the first time in my career I confess myself unable to decide
which article or lot to lay before you first."
"You said that last week at Templeton," laughed a man in the crowd.

"Go on!"
Whereupon the auctioneer once more addressed his hearers in a burst of
vocal fireworks.
"I wonder what Prescott and his mucker friends are here to bid on?"
Fred Ripley was asking himself. "Whatever it is, if it's nothing that I
want for myself I'll bid it up as high against them as I can. For, of
course, they've pooled their funds for whatever they want to get. They
can't put in more than a quarter apiece, so a dollar and a half is all I
have to beat. I'll wager they already suspect that I'm here just to make
things come higher for them. I hope they do suspect!"
It was just after the Fourth of July. The summer sun shone fiercely
down upon the assemblage.
"Perhaps, first of all," announced the auctioneer, after pausing to take
breath, "it will be the proper thing to do to offer the tent itself. At this
point, however, I will say that the foreclosing creditor of the show
himself bids two hundred dollars on the tent. No bid, unless it be more
than two hundred dollars, can be accepted. Come, now, friends, here is
a fine opportunity for a shrewd business man. One need not be a
showman, or have any personal need of a tent, in order to become a
bidder. Whoever buys this tent to-day will be able to realize
handsomely on his investment by selling this big-top tent in turn to
some showman in need of a tent. Who will start the bidding at three
hundred dollars?"
No one started it. After the auctioneer had talked for five minutes
without getting a "rise" out of any Gridley citizen, he mournfully
declared the tent to be outside of the sale.
"Has anyone here any