The voices rose again more rapidly. "Fifty more. Another to me. Oh, what's the use of fooling. One hundred better. Twenty again to me."
Miss Townshead glanced at her father. "They'll stop presently," said he. "The place stands at a third of its value, but it would cripple most of them to pay for it if they got it now. The man from Vancouver who goes up by twenties will get it at half of what it cost me, and I don't think you need watch for rancher Alton."
Still Nellie Townshead did not quite give up hope. The bidding was only beginning, and there was time yet. She had been taught to look beneath the surface in Western Canada, and had cherished a curious respect for rancher Alton. The girl was young still, and he stood for her as a romantic ideal of the new manhood that was to grow to greatness in the wildest province of the Dominion, while now and then she fancied she saw something in his comrade's face which roused her pity and stirred her to sympathy. That, having made it unasked, the former should slight a promise of the kind appeared incomprehensible and she felt that if he did so her faith in the type he served as an example of would fall with him. There was also pressing need of some one to look to for guidance in her time of necessity, because Townshead was not the man to grapple with any difficulty, and most of his neighbours knew little or nothing about the cities.
"Father," she said, "in case the purchaser turns us out where shall we go to-night? The stage does not go in to the railroad until a week to-day, and do you think there will be anything left over to keep us for a little in Vancouver?"
Townshead glanced at her querulously. "Somebody will take us in," said he. "I should have fancied, my dear, that you would have seen I am sufficiently distressed and unwell to-day without having to anticipate further difficulties. There will, I hope, be a balance. What is the bidding now?"
The girl listened, but for a few moments there was a significant silence, and her heart sank when a single voice rose. One or two others joined in, and there was silence again until the auctioneer repeated the offer. Then she turned quivering towards her father.
"You heard him?" she said.
Townshead groaned despondently, "I am afraid the prospect of a balance is very small," he said.
Again there was a stillness in the clearing, until the auctioneer's voice rose raucously expostulating. "It is really preposterous, gentlemen," he said. "I'm giving the place away."
"Well, I'll go ten better," said somebody, and the girl held her breath,