The High School Boys Canoe Club | Page 4

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.
"That was what I thought," nodded Dick Prescott. "That was why I
threw in a couple of bids---just to make him pay for his meanness. But
I'm sorry I did it."
"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.
Now every drop of blood in Dick Prescott's body tingled. His chums,
too, were equally aroused. It was this that they had hope of
securing---if it went off at a price next to nothing!
So intensely interested were the six young high school athletes in the
proceedings now that each one steeled himself to prevent betraying the
fact. All were aware that Fred Ripley's malicious eyes were watching
them. If he suspected that they wanted the canoe he could put the
bidding up to a figure that would make their wishes impossible of
fulfillment.
Dick yawned. He looked intensely bored.
"Come along," proposed Dave in an audible voice. "There's nothing
here we can get."
"Yes; it's getting tedious," hinted Tom Reade.
Dalzell and Hazelton also appeared to lose all interest in the auction.
"I was in hopes they'd want that canoe," muttered Fred Ripley, feeling
as though he had been cheated out of a great pleasure. "As it happens I
know all about that canoe. Wow! Wouldn't they groan if they put up all

their money for the canoe---_and then found out_!"
Just then the canoe was brought out. It was bolstered up on a long truck,
drawn by a pair of horses. Twenty-eight feet long, slender and of
graceful lines, this canoe, with its oiled birch bark