At Jim’s fourth auction, a saddle was offered for sale. He saw it just before the sale opened, stacked in a corner with a pile of miscellaneous household articles. Climbing over two galvanized washtubs, he managed to get close enough to inspect it carefully. It was a Western saddle with a high horn and cantle. The pommel, the cantle and the leather leg protectors were all covered with fancy tooling.
The saddle had been used just enough to deepen the color of the leather to a beautiful dark brown. Nowhere was it worn, and apparently it had been well cared for, as the leather was soft and pliable to the touch, indicating that plenty of saddlesoap and elbow grease had been used by the owner. It looked just right for Ticktock. Jim gazed at the saddle with longing and admiration. He had looked at the prices of saddles in the Montgomery Ward and Sears catalogs at home and knew a saddle such as that must have cost at least a hundred dollars. Probably more, as he had never seen a saddle with tooling such as this one.
In his mind he counted his money. He had only two dollars with him, but the total of his earnings now amounted to nineteen dollars. The saddle couldn’t conceivably go for such a price as that, he decided dismally, even if it were an off day at the sale. Besides he didn’t have the money with him and the sales were always for cash. Regretfully he stopped his minute inspection and went about his duties.
In spite of being resigned about the saddle, Jim made certain that he was present when it was sold. It seemed forever before it came up on the block. For the first time Jim took little interest in the bidding on various other articles offered. When the saddle was finally brought forward, he stood on the edge of the crowd, tense with excitement.
“What am I offered for this fine saddle?” asked the colonel. “A hand-tooled saddle in fine condition. None of your Eastern foolishness about this. It’s a serviceable as well as a beautiful Western job. There’s a good saddle blanket here that goes with it. What am I bid? Who’ll make me an offer?”
Jim found himself criticizing the colonel’s sales methods for the first time. He wished the auctioneer wouldn’t praise the saddle in such glowing terms.
“Ten dollars,” came the first bid from somewhere in the crowd.
“I have an offer of ten dollars. Who’ll make it twelve?” boomed the colonel.
“Twelve,” was the answer from another quarter of the room.
The bidding went to fourteen dollars and hung there for a moment. Jim couldn’t bear the thought of that beautiful saddle going to someone else for a mere fourteen dollars. He resolutely shoved his fears about money for Ticktock’s winter feed into the background.