oceedings. He soon understood why the pawnbrokers were
there. The prices obtained were absurdly small. There was very little
competition, and the sale had not gone far before it dawned on
Rumble's mind that the pawnbrokers had a tacit understanding that they
would not bid against one another, but would divide the stock among
them.

The poor old man's heart sank, and great beads of perspiration
appeared on his brow, as lot after lot went for almost nothing. All
his worldly possessions were melting away before his eyes, and he had
not the power to put out his hand and save them. Was he dreaming? No,
for he could hear the auctioneer's voice, loud and clear, crying:

"Going--going--gone!"

He turned his head and saw his daughter standing in the sitting-room,
near the open doorway, with her eyes fixed upon him. Her face was
white, white as the 'kerchief about her neck. She understood it all.
Yes, it was all too real.

"Going--going--gone!"

Again those terrible words rang like a knell in his ears, and every
time he heard them he knew that he was a poorer man; he knew that more
of his little stock had gone at a sacrifice.

At last he scarcely heeded the words of the auctioneer, but sat
staring before him like one spell-bound. The buzz of conversation
about him seemed like a sound coming from afar, like the roll of waves
on the seashore; and through it all, at intervals, like the faint note
of a bell warning seamen of danger, came those words telling of his
own wreck:

"Going--going--gone!"

When the auction was over Fanny went to her father's side. He was
apparently dazed. She helped him to rise. He leaned heavily upon her
as she led him into the sitting-room, where he sank back into a chair,
and did not utter a word for a long time. At last, when he found
voice, he said:

"Going--going--gone! It's all gone, Fanny, all gone! We are ruined!"

The sale on which Rumble had built so many hopes, realized but little
more than enough to pay the rent he owed. He did not have money enough
to continue his business, and a few days after the auction his
pawnshop was closed.

In the meantime, to add to their distress, Fanny had received a letter
from Arthur Maxwell, informing her that the railroad company with
which he had found employment had failed, owing him several hundred
dollars--all his savings. He wrote that there was a prospect that a
labor-saving invention of his would be put in use in one of the mines.
This was