"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 father had handed him that morning as his summer's spending money. He was beginning to wonder if his pony would really take the place of all the fun he had planned for his summer vacation.
"Here is your mount, sir," called the man who had done the saddling.
"Now, let's see what kind of a horseman you are."
"As good as you'll find around Gridley," declared Fred complacently.
Putting a foot into the left stirrup, he vaulted lightly to the animal's back.