te"; the auctioneer made a point of it,
repeating it several times for emphasis.

Wallie scanned the faces of the crowd to see if he could detect any
special interest that would denote a rival bidder, and he wished the
auctioneer would stop harping on their good qualities. It surprised him
a little that he saw none of his own eagerness reflected in the varied
expressions, also it relieved him somewhat. If he had had an unlimited
bank account it would have been different, but he realized that any
determined opponent could outbid him, so he found himself in a
perspiration as he waited.

"How high do you think I should go?" he asked of his friend and advisor.

"That depends on how badly you want them."

"They suit me exactly."

"Horses of that class are selling around $500, but you might venture a
little more, since you like them."

"That's just about what I am able to pay. My goodness, but I hope I'm
not outbid! You wouldn't believe how nervous I am. It's such a new
experience that I am really agitated."

The statement was unnecessary, since Canby could see Wallie's knees
trembling in his riding breeches.

"How much am I offered for this pair of magnificent young horses?" asked
the auctioneer, ingratiatingly.

Wallie, who had not such a case of stage-fright since he first sang in
public "Oh, that we two were Maying," bid instantly:

"Two hundred dollars!" His voice sounded like the squeak in a telephone
receiver.

The auctioneer cupped his hand behind his ear and leaned forward:

"What?"

The incredulity in his tone prompted Wallie to raise the bid to two
hundred and twenty-five when he repeated it.

The auctioneer struck his forehead with his clenched fist and staggered
back dramatically, demanding:

"Am I insulted?"

"That ain't possible," croaked a voice among the spectators.

"Two hundred and fifty!" The bid came from a ministerial-looking person
who was known as a kind of veterinary occasionally employed by Canby.

"Three hundred!" Wallie challenged him.

"That's more like it, but still an insult to these noble brutes I'm
selling. Who says three and a quarter?"

"And a quarter!" came from the veterinary.

"And a quarter--and a quarter--gentlemen, what ails you?" He looked at
the "bone and sinew of the nation," who prodded each other.

"Three hundred and fifty," Wallie responded.

"Three-fifty! Boost her faster, gentlemen! Boost her right along! Am I
offered four hundred?"

"Four hundre