"Um-m-m," said Dowd, "I dunno about an animal havin' a soul, but it's got a thing not so dom far from it."
As Clancy sat worrying about various forms of disposal for Big Four, an official phoning from City Hall, said just an ordinary, common word, which had Clancy hopping up and down, furiously mad.
"What's all this? What's all this?" Dowd sang out, coming from a stall, in which a good rubbing down of a shiny coat, and continuous loving pats had brought snuggling and nosing.
"Auction!!" said Clancy, wildly, and sitting down with a thud.
"Auction? Auction for Big Four? What? Put up on a block as you would a Jap urn or a phony diamond?"
"Uh-huh; that's what City Hall says."
An awful calm slunk insidiously onto that big smooth floor, as Dowd and Clancy, chins on hands, sat,—just thinking! Finally Clancy burst out with:—
"Aw! If an alarm would only ring in, right now, to stop my brain from cracking! Auction! Bah!!"
* * * *
A big crowd stood in City Park, including His Honor, many a Councilman, and, naturally, Old Bill Simpkins, who was always bound to know what was going on. A loud, fast-talking man, on a high stand, was shouting:—