kind," nodded the auctioneer.

It looked the part.

"I'll give you two dollars for the saddle," Fred offered.

"You'll pay ten if you get that saddle," replied the red-faced
auctioneer.

"Put it up and let us see how the bids will run," proposed Ripley.

"The sale is closed. Anything that is sold now will go at private
sale," retorted the auctioneer.

"Oh, come now!" protested Ripley. "I'd like to trade with you."

"You can, if you produce the price. At least, your friend can.
I can't deal with you, for you're a minor."

Fred tried vainly to persuade the auctioneer to lower the price
of the saddle, but finally concluded to pay ten dollars for it
and two dollars for a bridle. A worn saddle cloth was "thrown
in" for good measure. Ripley handed the money to the auctioneer's
clerk.

"Saddle up," directed Fred, tossing a quarter to the man who held
the pony's bridle.

Though flushed with his bargain, Fred was also feeling rather
solemn. He had parted with nearly all of the sixty dollars his