here, even if he wanted to," replied Dick, in a voice of sympathy.

"But how did the show folks manage to use this canoe?" asked Tom
Reade.

"They didn't, except on a truck in a street parade, I imagine,"
Dick replied. "And that must be how the holes came to be in the
bottom. The sun got in its work on the bark and oil, and blistered
the body of the canoe so that it broke or wore away in spots.
Oh, dear!"

The sale was over, but a few odds and ends remained. Fred Ripley,
having now paid the whole of his forty-one dollars through Mr.
Dodge, ordered his handsome new purchase led out.

A man came out, holding the pony's halter. He walked slowly,
the pony moving contentedly after him.

"A fine little animal!" glowed Fred, stroking the glossy coat.

"He---er---looks rather old, doesn't he?" ventured Mr. Dodge.

"Not so very old," Fred answered airily. "There is a lot of life
and vim left in this little fellow. And he can show speed, too,
or I'm all wrong."

Then Fred's eye roved toward the pile of stuff on which no one
had bid.

"There's a good saddle," suggested Ripley. "The real western