“Fifteen dollars,” he shouted in a high voice.
“I’m offered fifteen,” said the colonel, glancing quickly at Jim. “Sixteen, sixteen, am I bid sixteen?” Someone gave the signal and the offer went to sixteen. The auctioneer looked over at Jim questioningly. Feeling very nervous and uncertain that he was doing the proper thing, Jim nodded. His bid stood only a moment until the ante was raised to eighteen. Again the colonel looked in his direction and Jim nodded.
“Nineteen, I’ve been offered nineteen; who’ll make it twenty, twenty, twenty. Twenty it is. Who’ll make it twenty-one?”
Colonel Flesher looked questioningly at Jim, who had to shake his head sadly. He had reached the limit of his means. The bidding went on briskly until it reached twenty-five dollars. There it hung.
“Twenty-five, twenty-five, who’ll make it twenty-six? Going, going, gone. Twenty-five dollars. Sold to the Pony Express Incorporated for twenty-five dollars.”
Jim opened his mouth in astonishment. For a moment he doubted what he had heard. He had stopped bidding at nineteen. He didn’t think he had made any signal after that which the colonel could possibly interpret as a bid. He started to shout out a denial and then thought better. He would put the auctioneer in a bad spot if he denied the bid. He tried to think of some way out of the delicate situation. The only solution was to see Colonel Flesher as soon as he could and explain that not only had he not bid any such sum as twenty-five dollars but that he couldn’t possibly pay it anyhow.
All afternoon he worried about the matter. The sale seemed to drag on forever. Finally it was time for supper. Jim collected his food at the lunch wagon and headed for the auctioneer’s office. Troubled as he was, his appetite still remained.
“There’s been a mistake, Colonel Flesher,” Jim said as the big man entered. “I stopped bidding at nineteen dollars on that saddle.”
“I know you did. My eyesight isn’t failing yet.”
“I thought I heard you say it was sold to the Pony Express at twenty-five dollars.”