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