others think he wants it. I don't believe he'll buy it."

Tom heard what was said, but did not reply. The auctioneer was
calling monotonously: "I'm bid a hundred and twenty-five--twenty-five.
Will any one make it fifty?"

"A hundred and fifty!" sang out Andy, and all eyes were directed
toward him.

"Sixty!" said Tom quietly.

"Here, you--" began the red-haired lad. You--"

"That will do!" exclaimed the auctioneer sternly. "I am offered a
hundred and sixty. Now who will give me an advance? I want to get
the boat up to two hundred, and then the real bidding will begin."

Tom's heart sank. He hoped it would be some time before a two
hundred dollar offer would be heard. As for Andy Foger, he was
almost speechless with rage. He shook off the restraining arm of
Sam, and, worming his way to the front of the throng, exclaimed:

"I'll give a hundred and seventy-five dollars for that boat!"

"Good!" cried the auctioneer. "That's the way to talk. I'm
offered a hundred and seventy-five."

"Eighty," said Tom quietly, though his heart was beating fast.

"Well, of all--" began Andy, but Sam Snedecker dragged him back.