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 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.