"The anchors and cables are worth more," said the auctioneer. "Is there nobody willing to raise him fifty dollars?"
One of the men nodded. "I'll go that far," he said. "Still, I don't know where I could get it back for her."
Somebody offered ten dollars more, another man twenty, and there was languid bidding until the price had almost doubled; but then it stopped for a few moments, and Jimmy saw his companion glance somewhat uneasily toward the door.
"I'm beginning to wonder what's keeping my man," he said.
"If he doesn't come soon he might as well stay away altogether," said Jimmy, who turned in tense suspense and watched the hot faces of the men about him.
The price then offered would just clear the debt, but there were many things his father needed, and Jimmy had then only a few dollars in his pocket, which he had earned by stacking dressed lumber at a sawmill.
"Gentlemen," said the auctioneer, "I don't feel warranted in letting her go at the figure. She'd bring you half as much again to-morrow if you sailed her over to Victoria."
"I'll raise it ten dollars," said somebody, and the bidding commenced again more indifferently than ever. Five, ten, twenty dollars were offered, and then five again.
Jordan touched Jimmy's arm. "That's Merril's man—I've been trying to spot him—and I guess the cannery man would go up a hundred or two still, by the way he's watching him. Nobody else seems to want her, and it's quite likely they'll crawl up by tens. Sit still, while I run around and find out what's the matter with my broker."
He slipped out, but he was back within a few minutes, flushed in face, and thrust a strip of paper into Jimmy's hand.