and call for bids, the truth of the entire situation dawned upon him.
He was to be sold as a pauper to the lowest bidder, so he heard the
auctioneer say. For an instant a deep feeling of anger stirred within
his bosom, and he lifted his head as if to say something. But seeing
the eyes of all fixed upon him, he desisted.

"What am I offered for the keep of this old man?" the auctioneer cried.
"The lowest bid gets him."

"Two hundred dollars," came from a man not far off.

"Two hundred dollars!" and the auctioneer turned fiercely upon him.
"You're out for a bargain, Joe Tippits. Why, he's worth that to any
man for a year's work. He'll be able to do many an odd job. Come, you
can do better than that."

"One seventy-five," came from another.

"Too much," the auctioneer cried. "The parish can't stand that."

"One fifty, then."

"That's better, Joe. Try again. You're a long way off yet."

"I'll take the critter fer one hundred dollars, and not a cent less."

At these emphatic words all turned and stared hard at the speaker. A
perceptible shiver passed through the bystanders, while several
muttered protests were heard.